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WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? 

(GILBERT DAYLE.) 

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"WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN 
DO ? " 

By Gilbert Dayle 

Produced at the Apollo Theatre, London, September 
20, 1902. 

PRESS OPINIONS 

" When Mr. Gilbert Davie's play commenced its career it 
was flattered with the most tempestuous approval, and was 
a decided success." — Daily Telegraph. 

" An enjoyable comedy. A genuine old-time success was 
earned by Mr. Gilbert Dayle's new comedy at the Apollo 
Theatre on Saturday evening."— Daily Mail. 

" The whole thing is pleasant. The plot is good ; the 
play mightily pleased the audience." — Morning Post. 

" A bright, pleasant and diverting entertainment." — Daily 
News. 

" Some of the best lines in the piece did much to secure 
the favourable verdict passed upon the production on Satur- 
day." — Daily Chronicle. 

" The play can indeed be seen with pleasure." — Daily 
Graphic. 

" The author and the company were repeatedly called for 
and cheered on Saturday evening, and the play was received 
with every mark of appreciation." — Sporting Life. 

" An entire success." — Morning Leader. 



" There can surely be no mistake about Saturday night's 
audience in the Apollo Theatre. Spontaneous enthusiasm 
possessed it, and Mr. Tom B. Davis has begun his newest 
management with a brilliant success." — Financial News. 

" There was no doubt about the cordial reception which 
the play met with on Saturday night." — -Financial Times, 

" Mr. Gilbert Dayle fixed upon two excellent ideas as a 
basis for his play. He has discovered good material, and 
has used it effectively." — Pall Mall Gazette. 

" ' What would a Gentleman Do ? ' will add to the nation's 
gaiety." — -5/. James's Gazette. 

" An Apollo success. It would be possible to ascribe many 
reasons for the pleasant interest associated with the produc- 
tion at the Apollo Theatre." — Sun. 

" If any one would like to give his friends a treat, he may 
safely take them to the Apollo Theatre — that is what a gen- 
tleman would do ! " — Referee. 

" The play delighted a crowded house, and thoroughly 
deserved the reception accorded it." — Sunday Special. 

" ' What would a Gentleman Do ? ' by Mr. Gilbert Dayle, 
who writes with point, and no slight humour, and tells an 
exceedingly entertaining stor)^ introducing several excellent 
character studies. It is a pleasure to record the unmistak- 
able success of the play." — Weekly Times. 



WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN 
DO ? 



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WHAT WOULD A 
GENTLEMAN DO? 



AN ORIGINAL THREE-ACT 
PLAY 



By 

GILBERT DAYLE 



Copyright, 19 10, by Samuel French, Ltd. 



New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 



London 

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performance of "What Would a Gentleman Do?" 
may be hired or purchased reasonably from Messrs. 
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feCID 22622 



" WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN 
DO ?" 

Produced on September 20th, 1902, at the Apollo Theatre, 
London with the following Cast: — 



Colonel Sir Bruce Retired. 

Kederby C.B., 

V.C. 
Madge Kederby His daughter. 
Hartley Quayne A Solicitor. 
Sir Christopher 

Wynne. 
Lady Nora Her- ^ Friends of the 

„ VEY ' • * I Kederbys. 
Dolly Banter . J J 

Ronald Kederby Sir Bruce's son. 

Miss Agatha Ke- His sister. 

DERBY. 
RODD .... 

Geoffrey Seaton 
Dickie Hook 



Servant at the 
Grange. 

and 



Mr. J. H. Barnes. 

Miss Nina Boucicault. 
Mr. Charles Garry. 
Mr. Frank Mills. 

J Miss Spencer Brunton. 
I Miss Beatrice Ferrar. 

Mr. Barrington Foote. 
Miss Marie Illington. 

Mr. Fred. Emney. 

Mr. Dennis Eadie. 

Mr. W . Louis Bradfield. 



SCENERY 

Act I. 

Morning room at Bar stone Grange. Morning. 

Act II. 

Conservatory at Barstone Grange. Evening. 



Act III. 

Same as Act I. 3 months later. Morning. 

Time : The Present. 



Backcloth showing garden. 
French windows. 



Fireplace 




Tahle & chairs 



L.2.E. 



R.I.E. 



Piano 



Morning Boom at Bars tone Grange. 



" WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN 
DO ? " 

ACT I 

Scene. — Morning room of Barsione Grange, the coun- 
try residence of Colonel Sir Bruce Kederby. It is a 
well-furnished room with several Indian curios about. 
Wide French windows open on to the garden up stage 
L .and handsome doorways form L.2.E. and r.i.e. The 
fireplace is in the corner of the room up stage R., and 
a piano stands against the wall down stage l. On 
the wall over the fireplace is a large framed picture of 
Madge Kederby, and above it a sword with scabbard. 
In the centre of the room is a small square table on 
which is standing a large bowl of flowers, red and 
white. Flowers of the same colour are also about the 
room in profusion. Against the wall R. is a large 
writing desk with chair before it. 

(The curtain rises on an empty stage. Almost imme- 
diately Rodd enters L.2.E., ushering in Quayne. 
Rodd is an upright old man with grizzled grey hair, 
and an artificial leg, which causes him to walk stiffly. 
He is a veteran soldier turned servant in his Colonel's 
employ. He wears a red and white buttonhole, and 
has three medals pinned to his breast. Quayne is 
a well-dressed smart-looking man of about thirty -five.) 

Rodd. This way, sir. 

Quayne (crossing table c. and taking off his gloves). 
Well, Rodd, and how do you find yourself ? 



10 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. 

Rodd (facing Quayne, thumping his chest and 
drawing himself tip). Never better, sir — bar, o' 
course, the leg. As full of fire as the day I followed 
the Colonel to Vallapore, and he led us 'ome. (Waving 
his arm impressively.) Twenty-five years ago to-day, 
sir, and both me and the Colonel alive to tell the tale. 
Twenty-five years, sir. 

Quayne (smiling). Ah, of course— it's the anni- 
versary of Vallapore. (Sitting R. of table, indicating 
flowers on the table) Some one who remembered 
sent these to him ? 

Rodd (scornfully). Some one who remembered ! 
Remember Vallapore in this house — where I am ? 
No, sir, the day the Colonel carved 'is page on Tstory, 
and won 'is V.C., ain't likely to be forgotten whilst 
I'm about, and Miss Madge, bless 'er, don't want any 
reminding. She alwus decorates the place with his 
favourite flowers, and she was down early this morn- 
ing seein' to them. (Looks lovingly at his own button- 
hole.) And she gave me these with 'er own dainty 
little 'ands and says, " Rodd, you were there too," 
and I said, " And a thundering good job for some of 
'em that I was, miss." (Nods his head knowingly 
and chuckles, suddenly looking tip.) Ah, you want 
to see the Colonel — of course ! (He marches across 
and fetches morning paper, and returns with it to 
Quayne.) 

(Quayne has dropped into a chair by the table.) 

He won't be more than a minute — I'll fetch him, sir, 
I'll fetch him. 

(He turns and stumps jauntily round the table towards 
French windows. A few feet from the windows he 
suddenly lunges his leg forward and does a few strokes 
with an imaginary sword. Quayne looks round, 
whereupon Rodd hastily recovers himself, saying 
hurriedly, " Pardon, sir, pardon — twenty- five years 
ago to-day," then resumes his walk to the windows. 



Act 1.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 

Ashe gains the path the Colonel appears on it, an 
sees Quayne in room.) 

(Rodd stands at the salute till his master passes, then 
pulls out his red silk handkerchief and, nodding 
admiringly at the Colonel's back, waves it tri- 
umphantly and disappears along the path) 

(The Colonel is a spruce-looking elderly man with 
close-cropped white hair ; he is attired in light sum- 
mer suit, and wears a flower of the prevailing colour. 
He enters the room.) 

Colonel (looking at his watch.) My dear Quayne, 
the last stroke has scarcely died away. (Shaking 
hands.) I couldn't keep an appointment so punctu- 
ally to save my life. 

Quayne (smiling). There was just one you kept, 
Sir Bruce, was there not ? 

Colonel. Can't recall it. 

Quayne. I think you made it early in the morn- 
ing of a day, just twenty-five years ago. You sent 
a message saying that at eight o'clock that evening 
you would join the officers of the besieged garrison 
at Vallapore — how you kept that appointment is, I 
believe, fairly well known. 

Colonel (going up l.c). Ah, that rascal, Rodd, 
has been at it again. Every anniversary it's the 
same — it's Vallapore with him all day long. He 
wears his medals, and thinks and babbles over it 
from the moment he comes down sober in the morning 
till the inordinately late hour at which he goes drunk 
to bed at night. And I can't cure him of it. 

Quayne. It's a thing an Englishman rather 
likes to remember. 

Colonel (at top of table a). It's devilish embar- 
rassing to have such an enthusiast about the place. 
Why, last year we had a crowd here, and before the 
afternoon, do what I could to keep him quiet, the 



12 ' WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act T. 

ruffian had the whole lot of 'em talking Vallapore — 
until at last some one made the atrocious remark 
that it never rained but it Vallapored. 

(Quayne laughs / Colonel seats himself at table and 
assumes a business-like air.) 

(With a sigh.) Well, what's the latest ? I suppose 
you have some more bad news. 

Quayne (sitting down opposite). I'm afraid it 
isn't very cheerful. As I predicted, you will have to 
throw still more good money after bad' — in short, 
you have to pay the full liability of the shares you 
took in the Company. 

Colonel (nodding). How much does it tot up 
to? 

Quayne (showing him the notice). Five thousand 
odd. 

Colonel (turning away bitterly). Good Lord ! 
(He gets up and stares despondently round the room — 
after a pause). Yes, there's no help for it this time — 
the place will have to go. (Sighs and remains buried 
in thought for a moment, then rouses himself and turns 
abruptly to Quayne.) There's a terrible lot of truth 
in that little remark about the " Shoemaker sticking 
to his last," Quayne. If, when I retired, I had let my 
private capital remain in Consols, instead of being 
persuaded by Graham to invest the whole of it in his 
confounded steel company, I shouldn't have been in 
the mess I am now. (Up l.c.) 

Quayne. It certainly was a most unfortunate 
speculation. 

Colonel (coming down l. of table). Unfortunate ! 
It was the worst thing I've ever done in my life. In 
six months every penny has been drained out of me, 
and I've had a hard struggle to keep my head above 
water and, as you know, Quayne, I've had to sacrifice 
my pride considerably. 

Quayne. You are referring to Mr. Hook ? 



ActL] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO?" 13 

(Colonel nods.) 

Oh, there is really nothing in that, Sir Bruce. It's 
merely a matter of convenience to both parties. On 
one side, a good-looking young man of little birth or 
education, who has suddenly sprung into a large 
fortune, who is socially ambitious, and who is willing 
to pay heavily for any chance of improving his posi- 
tion. On the other side 

Colonel. Sir Bruce Kederby, who, little as people 
suspect it, is practically ruined, sooner than go under 
at once, he accepts the unutterable bounder's terms 
and has him to live with him as a friend and introduce 
him in that character to his neighbours. Quayne, I 
have despised myself for doing it every moment since, 
and if it hadn't been to keep the Grange for Madge 
and the boy in the army, I would have gone to the 
gutter first. (Down L. and back.) 

Quayne (cheerfully). I don't think you ought to 
look at it in that light, Sir Bruce. Why, quite a lot 
of people do that sort of thing nowadays. 

Colonel (grimly). Hitherto the Kederbys have 
refrained from the amusement. (Bitterly.) And, 
after all, it has been no use. This final five thousand 
pounds will be totally impossible to find. The 
place '11 have to go ! 

Quayne. Have you no relatives — or friends ? 

Colonel (firmly). None, none to whom I would 
go, Quayne. No, there is no help for it. 

Quayne (with a sigh). It's a pity. (Rises.) 

Colonel. Yes, it's always a pity when one's 
ruined. I don't mind myself so much — it's 

(Madge's voice is heard outside on path, laughing. 
Colonel puts a finger to his lips. Madge enters 
through windows. She is a pretty girl of about 
twenty, attired in a white summer dress and a sun 
hat. She crosses to Quayne.) 

Madge (shaking hands with him). Good-morning, 



U ."WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. 

Mr. Quayne. Have you been trying to make father 

a business man ? 

Colonel. That would be an impossible feat, my 

dear ! (Half aside.) My own efforts in that direction 

have had somewhat poor results. 

Quayne. And what have you been doing, Miss 

Madge ? 

Madge (laughing). I promised to teach Mr. Hook 

how to play tennis. This is his third lesson, and he 

beat his instructor. 

(Hook appears at windows. He is a man of about 
twenty-four , attired in a light flannel suit. In his 
buttonhole he wears a red and white flower. A straw 
hat and a tennis racquet complete his outfit. His 
whole appearance is suggestive of a bounder ish type. 
He looks fairly well, but when excited, attends to his 
H's with an effort. He comes into the room mopping 
his forehead.) 
Hook. Hullo, Quayne, how are you ? (Shakes 

hands with him, then drops into a chair.) I've had a 

hot half hour tennis playing with Miss Madge — but 

it's all right- — I'm through with it — I'm a tennis 

player — the real article, eh, Miss Madge ? 

Madge (smiling). You've certainly beaten me, 

but then there are others far better, you know. 
Colonel. Miss Dolly Banter, for example. 
Hook (springing to his feet, waving his racquet). 

Bring 'em along, Hook's ready to meet all comers. 

(Makes a cut at an imaginary ball.) How's that for 

a volley ? 

Quayne. Magnificent ! You'd get six for a lost 

ball, I should say. 

(Madge has crossed to Colonel and they have been 
talking together, he with his arm affectionately round 
her waist. Rodd appears on path and marches 
jauntily into room. Draws himself up to stiff atten- 
tion before the Colonel and salutes.) 
Colonel (sitting down l.). Well, what is it, Rodd ? 



Act I.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 15 

Rodd (l.c). The vicarage orderly, sir, has brought 
a message, which he wishes to deliver personally to 
you. He would not entrust it to the Intelligence 
Department. (Indicating himself.) 

Madge. I thought you were generally the com- 
missariat officer, Rodd ? 

Rodd. I'm everything to-day, miss. And I 
would call to mind that on that day of days, miss, 
twenty-five 

Colonel (stopping him with a gesture). That will 
do, please, Rodd. Where is the vicarage man ? 

Rodd. Within the lines — just on the lawn. The 
Intelligence Department has a shrewd inkling that 
" flowers for the church " is at the bottom of his 
manoeuvres. 

Colonel (laughing). All right, Rodd, then you 
had better come too, Madge. 

(Bus. Rodd, he salutes and marches away. Colonel 
looks after him and shakes his head.) 

He's got it worse than ever to-day. 

Madge (slipping her arm through her father's). I'm 
glad he has, and I just love him for it. (Giving his 
arm a hug.) Oh, if you only knew how proud I am 
of you. 

(Colonel bends down and kisses her on the forehead, 
then looks towards Quayne and Hook, who are 
chatting together at table) 

Colonel. I'll be back in a minute, Quayne. You 
will be able to entertain yourself with your other 
client, I know. 

Quayne (taking a step or so towards them). Cer- 
tainly, Sir Bruce. Please don't hurry. 

(Colonel and Madge exit through windows and along 
path.) 



16 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? ' [Act I. 

Hook goes to window and watches Madge disappear. 

Quayne turning, sees Hook still staring along the 

path. Hook comes slowly down stage to table.) 

Quayne. Well, Mr. Hook, are you satisfied with 
your bargain ? 

Hook (looking round thoughtfully in direction Madge 
has gone, then suddenly rousing himself). Satisfied — 
I should just think I was, about ! Quayne, it's been 
a glorious success. I can never thank you enough 
for thinking of the idea, and arranging for me to 
come here. It was the finishing touch I wanted. 

Quayne. Your ambitions, then, are gratified ? 

Hook. No, they ain't ; they're only just begin- 
ning. But before I make a start, I had to be a 
gentleman — and that meant hard work. 

Quayne (dryly). It always is a somewhat difficult 
proceeding. 

Hook. Yes, but I'm through with it now ; and 
Richard Hook, Esquire, will pass muster with most 
gentlemen in the land. (Facing Quayne.) You 
know what I was when your agent hunted me out in 
Melbourne, and told me I'd been left a pile. 

Quayne. I only remember it was honest em- 
ployment. 

Hook. Yes, honest ; but low down- — precious 
low down in the scale. And now here I am, enjoying 
my money, mixing with a real good set. Some of 
'em in my shoes would have kept low, and flashed 
their money away. But I knew better ; I made 
up my mind to be a gentleman, and I've done it. 
(Rising, crossing l.) 

Quayne. You certainly acted very wisely. 

Hook (down l.). I didn't know how to behave — 
what good class people do, and what they don't. 
But it can be all found out by observation. I watched 
'em, and soon fell into it myself. What's the result 
— Sir Bruce takes me everywhere and introduces me 
as his friend, and I can tell from his manner he isn't 
ashamed of me — he likes doing it. 



Act I.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 17 

Quayne. I am glad you are satisfied. 

Hook. Of course, he'd do it anyhow — it's our 
bargain, and he's paid for it. But what pleases me 
is to feel it isn't a trial to him. It makes me sure of 
my feet, and if anything does crop up and I'm not 
quite certain, well, I've always got this with me. 
(Draws a little thin book from his pocket.) 

Quayne. Why, what is it ? 

Hook. Don't you know ? (Holding it up.) The 
Complete Gentleman ; it tells you everything — from 
what to do with finger glasses at dinner down to how 
to chat at a funeral. It's just splendid ; any one 
who read it through couldn't help being a gentleman — 
no matter what he was when he started. 

Quayne. A marvellous little book, it puts gen- 
tility within reach of us all. 

Hook (dropping into a chair, in self-satisfied tones). 
I wouldn't be without it for a fortune — it's made my 
life happy. 

Quayne. • Have you made any more plans, Mr. 
Hook? 

Hook. I shall stop here. I'm very comfortable, 
and it suits me. I'm making heaps of friends, and 
being asked everywhere. I'm expanding, Quayne. 
(Putting book in pocket.) 

Quayne (looking at him narrowly). In the course 
of that expansion, is it possible you will marry ? 

Hook. Shouldn't wonder, Quayne, shouldn't won- 
der. How much am I worth ? (Crossing his legs.) 

Quayne. Something a little over two hundred 
thousand pounds. 

Hook. That's a lot of money, ain't it ? And it's 
all solid — all there — good stuff ? 

Quayne. Government securities. 

Hook (rises). Well, look here, I could afford to 
marry a lady, couldn't I ? A real lady. 

Quayne (smiling). Yes, even a real lady. 

Hook (gets up and lays a hand on the Solicitor's 
shoulder). Then I shouldn't be astonished, Quayne, 



18 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. 

if you heard of my being engaged to a real lady — the 
realest little lady going. 

(Enter Madge and Colonel r.i.e.) 

Madge (crossing to Quayne). You ought to see 
our flowers, Mr. Quayne — they're lovely just now. 

Quayne (taking up his gloves). Thank you, but 
I'm afraid I must be going, Miss Madge. 

Colonel. I thought you would stay to lunch, 
Quayne ; we are expecting the boy at any moment. 

Quayne. I ought to be getting back, Sir Bruce. 

Colonel. Well, anyway, come for a stroll with 
me first. I haven't finished my talk with you. 

Quayne (walking towards windows, joining Col- 
onel). Delighted, Sir Bruce. 

(Exit together along path.) 

Madge (looking after Colonel admiringly — to 
Hook). Don't you think my father one of the nicest 
men in the world, Mr. Hook ? (Going to piano.) 

Hook (nodding). A real good sort, Miss Madge — 
a man you'd go through fire and water for, and be 
very gkd to do it. 

Madge (enthusiastically, down to piano l.). Like 
Rodd says the men of the 21st Hussars were ready 
to do at Vallapore. 

(She sits on music stool down stage L. Hook is stand- 
ing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, survey- 
ing her back. She turns round to him.) 

All the Kederbys have been soldiers, Mr. Hook. 

Hook (r.c., slowly). You think it the only pro- 
fession for a man ? 

Madge (looking at the photograph of a young man 
above the piano). I don't know that I 

Hook. I suppose the man you marry will have 
to be one ? 

Madge (taking the frame and wiping a speck from 
the glass with her handkerchief, bending over it). I 



Act I.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 19 

don't think I am so bigotted as that. If I realty 
loved a man, I should not mind what he was. (She 
is looking at the piano intently.) 

(A quick eager look comes over Hook's face ; he makes 
a movement as if to suddenly speak, then turns the 
other way with a gesture — as if he can find no words. 
Madge half glances over her shoulder, sees Hook's 
back turned to her, then gently kisses the photograph 
and puts it back on the piano. She lets her hands 
stray over the piano, plays a bar or two, then sud- 
denly swings round on the music stool) 

[Seated at piano.) It is nice to think Ronald has 
got a whole week's leave ; I do hope he will come 
soon. I have been counting the hours ever since 
we heard. 

Hook. I suppose you are very proud of him ? 

Madge. Proud of Ronald, I should think we 
were ! I, Rodd, and father most of all. He's only 
a subaltern, not but that he's going to be at the top 
of the tree. He's ever so clever. 

Hook (shaking his head). That's against him — 
in the army. 

(Rodd enters excitedly c. from L.) 

Rodd [up l.c). Pardon, Miss Madge — must tell 
you — Mr. Ronald is coming up the path. (Marches 
excitedly towards windows, swinging round.) And 
he's getting to look, miss, just like his blessed father 
did when I first noo 'im. 
(Madge slips off seat and runs towards the window.) 

Here 'e is, miss, 'ome on Anniversary Day, too ! 
Hip, hip 

(Brings out his red handkerchief to wave, but crams it 
back hastily and assumes a stiff attitude with hand 
at the salute, as Ronald Kederby enters. He is 
a young fellow of about twenty, attired in tweed suit, 
somewhat pale.) 



20 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act T. 

Ronald (kissing Madge). Well, little girl, how 
are you ? Hullo, Hook ? And old Rodd, too ! 
(Shaking him by the hand.) I see you've got 'em all 
on again. (Pointing to medals.) 

Rodd. Day of days, sir. 

(Ronald nods.) 

'Ope you'll have a good collection yourself, sir, before 
long. 

(Exit through windows.) 

Madge. Ronald, is anything the matter ? How 
worried you look. 

Ronald (shaking his head and forcing a smile). 
I did not sleep very well last night — it's nothing. 
And how have you been getting on, Hook ? (Shakes 
hands with him.) 

Hook. Oh, I've done a little bit of everything, and 
done it well since I saw you last. 

Madge. Did you see father as you came through 
the garden, Ronald ? 

Ronald. No, dear. 

Madge (going up stage). I'll run out and tell him 
— he'll want to see you at once. 

Ronald (going up stage too). I'll come along with 
you, or rather, I'll follow you in a minute — I just 
want to speak to Hook. 

(She takes a flower from her belt and puts it in his coat ; 
he kisses her and she runs off laughing.) 

(He watches her disappear, then turns and strides down 
stage — his expression has changed — he is pale and 
anxious.) 

(Blurting the words out.) There is no time to lose — I 
want to know, Hook, if you'll do me a favour ? (Sits 
L. of table.) 

Hook. Of course. Out with it. 



.Act I.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?." 21 

(Ronald sitting down l. side of table with bowed head. 
•Hook is watching him other end.) 

Ronald. I'm in a horrible mess, Hook, and I've 
got to bolt. 

Hook. As bad as that ? (Walking to mantelpiece.) 

Ronald. Yes, as bad as that ! I felt I must 
just come down to see them once before I left — I'm 
not going back to the regiment. What I want you 
to do is to break it gently to them after I've gone. 
Tell them the reason. You'll do it ? 

Hook. Yes, but what's the trouble — money ? 

Ronald. Yes, the usual kind — oh, I've been an 
awful fool, Hook. 

Hook. I know that — blurt it out ! 

Ronald. It started some time ago when I got 
leave, and instead of coming home I went up to town. 
I got into a quick set and started card playing. The 
usual thing, I was young, inexperienced ; they made 
it their life. I lost more money than I could pay, 
and gave a bill. I went on trying to pull back my 
losses, and got deeper in still. Now there's a bill 
with my name to it out, for quite a hopeless amount 
— and they're pressing for payment. 

Hook. And you think making a bolt is the easiest 
way out ? 

Ronald. What else can I do ? You know the 
governor has no money, or else 

Hook (sits r. table). Else I shouldn't be here ? 
I understand. Go on. 

Ronald. He's already given me every penny he 
can spare and more, bless him ! It would be quite 
impossible for him to find this money. And I won't 
ask him. Directly it gets to the Colonel's ears, I 
shall be kicked out of the regiment. It's better to 
leave than be kicked out ! 

Hook. I suppose it is ; what do you intend to 
do ? 

Ronald. Oh, I don't know — get right away — 



22 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. 

make a clean start ! Oh, my God, Hook, it will 
break the governor's heart — and little Madge's. 

Hook (watching him thoughtfully, rising and going 
up R.) Yes, it'll break her heart sure enough ! 

Ronald. Still there's no other way. I must go, 
and you'll tell 'em as gently as possible ? (Utters a 
sob, brushes his hand across his eyes shamefacedly , to 
Hook.) I'm not thinking so much of myself as the 
governor and 

Hook {thoughtfully). Yes, yes ! (Looking up 
abruptly.) How much is it ? 

Ronald. Close on a thousand in all. 

(He sinks down into a chair again, and buries his face 
in an attitude of despair. Hook crosses quietly to 
desk R., and sitting down before it takes up pen. He 
pulls out his cheque book) and writes cheque ; then 
gets up and crosses to Ronald, behind table.) 

Hook. Seems a bit of a pity you should bolt ; it 
isn't altogether necessary, is it ? 

(Touches him on the shoulder. Ronald looks up, 
mechanically takes the cheque Hook presses into his 
hand. Hook sits r. of table, picks up paper.) 

Ronald (springing up). What's this, Hook ? 

Hook (gruffly). I don't like the job of breaking 
bad news. Let me off with this instead ! 

Ronald. It's awfully good of you ; but I can't 
take it from you. 

Hook (with assumed fierceness). Why not, is it 
because you don't think I am a gentleman ? 

Ronald. No, no, of course not ! I can't, because 
— I have no chance of paying it back — because — well, 
I've been a fool, and ought to suffer for it. (Goes l.) 

Hook. But ought the others to suffer too ? 
Think of Sir Bruce — think of what your career means 
to him — think of Madge. It isn't much use breaking 
her heart, is it ? 



ActL] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 23 

Ronald (goes l. a little). I can't ! It isn't right 
when I can't pay it back. 

Hook (fiercely). I don't want it back, hang you ! 

(Pauses — softly — Madge's voice heard off r.) 

For her sake ! 

(Hook holds out hand, Ronald suddenly springs up 
and takes it.) 

Ronald. God bless you, Hook ! 
Hook. She is never to know — promise ! 
Ronald. I promise ! 

(Exit Hook hurriedly L.2.E.) 

(Ronald folds cheque and places it hastily in his 
pocket, then turns and goes up stage to meet Colonel, 
who enters with Madge and Quayne.) 

Colonel (shaking hands warmly). My dear boy, 
why didn't you come out to me ? 

Ronald (aivkwardly) . I've been talking to Hook ! 

Colonel (turning aside, dryly). I'm hardly flat- 
tered ! 

Olayne (conies down R., shaking hands). I am 
told we are to expect great things of you, Mr. Kederby. 

Madge. Don't blush, Ronnie. We have been 
telling Mr. Quayne what you did at Sandhurst. 

Ronald (to Madge). I am afraid you do a great 
deal too much talking about me ! Wait until I dis- 
appoint you. 

Colonel (putting his arm on his shoulder). You're 
not going to disappoint us, my boy. You're going 
to carry the Kederby name further than it's been 
before ! 

Quayne (smiling). You will have your work cut 
out, Mr. Ronald. Remember Vallapore ! 

(Colonel shakes his head at him reproachfully.). 

Ronald (turning away, speaking with an effort). 
I'll do my best ! (Walking up to Madge l. of table.) 



24 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. 

(Colonel going down stage l. Quayne moves after 
him.) 
Colonel. I'm proud of him, Quayne ; and he's 
in my old regiment too ! 

{Turning suddenly to Ronald, who with Madge is still 

near the window) 
Oh, Ronald, have you got that little photograph of 
the barracks I asked you about ; I want to show it 
to Quayne. 

(Ronald opens his coat and brings out a pocket book ; 
as he pulls it out, Hook's cheque flutters to the ground 
behind him. He searches amongst the papers and 
finds the photo whilst crossing to Colonel. Madge 
meanwhile has picked up cheque, sees what it is, look 
of bewilderment ; then as Ronald turns to her again, 
she puts her hands behind her. Colonel and 
Quayne examine photo.) 
Colonel. It's very good, Ronnie, boy. There 

are my old quarters, see, Quayne ? 
Quayne. Splendidly clear ! 

(Colonel lays it on the table. Quayne pulls out his 

watch) 
I really must catch the twelve train, Sir Bruce. I 
have such a thing as an office and clerks to look after, 
you know ! 

Colonel. If you must go then, I'll see you 
through the grounds ; but you're coming to-night to 
dinner ? 

Quayne. Thank you, it's very kind of you, Sir 
Bruce. But I still have the friend I introduced to 
you the other morning staying with me. 

Colonel. Oh, Mr. Seaton. He comes from Aus- 
tralia, didn't you say ? Well, bring him along with 
you. Dare say he'd like a yarn with Hook. 

Quayne. Well, I have a late appointment to-day, 
and could hardly manage dinner ! May we come 
over afterwards ? 



Act I.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 25 

Colonel. Of course, any time, as long as you 
come. 

(Quayne says good-bye to Ronald and Madge, then 
makes his exit with Colonel along path.) 

(Ronald goes down stage, Madge follows.) 

Madge (stopping within a yard of his back, half 
fearfully). Ronnie ! 

Ronald. Well, what is it, little girl ? 

Madge (r. of table, holding cheque out). This 
dropped to the ground when you were looking for 
the photo. I couldn't help seeing what it was. 

(He gives a start, and takes it from her. He thrusts it 
in his pocket, then turns away.) 

(Creeping up to him and touching him on the arm.) 

What does it mean, Ronnie — a cheque for a thousand 
pounds given by Mr. Hook to you ? 

Ronald (after a pause, stammering). I — he — it 
was a matter of business. 

Madge (staring hard into his confused face, then 
dropping a step back). You are keeping something 
from me, Ronnie ? 

(He does not answer.) 

Ronnie, dear, are you in trouble ? I don't like to 
think 

Ronald (turning suddenly to her). Since you've 
seen the cheque, I suppose it can't be helped — I 
promised not to tell ! Madge dear, I've been an 
awful fool — I don't know how to tell you. 

Madge. Yes, yes ! 

Ronald (brokenly). I've been gambling. 

(She starts back, frightened.) 

I owed more than I could possibly pay — I was going 
to run away. 

Madge. Run away ! 

B 



26 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. 

Ronald. What else could I have done ? I should 
have been disgraced, thrown out of the Service. I 
asked Hook to break it to you ; instead he gave me 
this. 

Madge. You took money from him, when you 
cannot pay it back ? 

Ronald. I know ; I couldn't have done it if he 
hadn't made me think what it meant to the governor 
— to you ! 

Madge. Why didn't you go to father ; he would, 
have given you the money. 

Ronald. He would if he could, but he hasn't got 
a penny ! 

Madge. What do you mean ? 

Ronald. You will have to know some time or 
other. By an unfortunate speculation he has lost 
all his private money ; he did not tell you, as he did 
not want to worry you. Why, to keep me in the 
Service he has already made a tremendous sacrifice 
(turns away R.) — had Hook here. 

Madge. What has Mr. Hook being here got to 
do with it ? 

Ronald. He keeps the place going — that's all. 
(Bitterly,) Is he the class of man likely to be the 
close friend of the family ? 

Madge. Do you mean he pays to be here ? 

Ronald. That's it. He's a man of no birth, 
suddenly become rich. He wanted to get into good 
society, and the governor, sooner than I should have 
to give up the Service, had him here. 

Madge. Poor father ! (Crosses to l.c.) 

Ronald (r. of table). With his pride, it was a 
tremendous sacrifice ! I feel a cur, Madge ; yet 
what could I do ? 

Madge. And he gave you this money, knowing 
you could not pay it back ? 

Ronald. Yes ; he insisted. 

Madge. Oh, why ? Why ? 

Ronald. He's a sort of rough diamond, I suppose. 



Act I.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 27 

Madge (sits l. of table). But to think we owe this 
man a thousand pounds ! How can he be repaid ? 

Ronald. He doesn't want it ! He has more 
money than he knows what to do with. He did it 
from pure kindness of heart. 

Madge. All the same, it's a debt. 

(Colonel's voice is heard off. " Ronald, come along 
out.") 

Ronald (answering). All right, father! (To 
Madge.) Coming, Madge ? (Goes up l.c.) 

Madge (shaking her head). No, Ronnie, I'd like 
to be alone — I want to think. 

Ronald (coming back, suddenly catching hold of her 
hand). Don't think I don't feel it, Madge. It has 
been a lesson to me ; it'll keep me straight for the 
rest of my life ! Only don't worry about it too much ; 
it can't be helped, and remember I promised not to 
tell you. You mustn't give him the slightest hint, 
you know. 

(Madge nods her head.) 

Some day, Madge, I'll make you proud of me. 
Madge (looking up at him). I think you will, dear ! 

(He kisses her hand impulsively, then strides off through 
window.) 

(Brushing her eyes with her handkerchief.) It would 

have killed father ! He was right to take it, yet 

Oh, it was splendid of him. All my life I shall be 
grateful to him, and if there is anything I can do to 
repay our debt, I will. Yet, what could I do ? 



(Enter Hook quietly r.i.e. He is studying the " 
plete Gentleman," he looks up, sees Madge, gives 
a start, and hastily puts the little book back in his 
pocket.) 

Hook (nervously). Thought you and Ronald were 
about together. (Strides up to window.) 



28 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO 'i " [Act I. 
Madge. No, he is having a talk with father. 

(Hook looks along path, then glances nervously down 
the room at her, then finally, as if he has made up his 
mind, comes down stage towards her.) 

Hook. Can you spare me half a minute, Miss 
Madge ? 

Madge (glancing at him in surprise). Why, of 
course, Mr, Hook. 

Hook (turns away from her). I hardly know how 

to begin — I (Suddenly swinging round, blurting 

it out.) Well, here it is, right out ! I'm going to ask 
if you'll make me the happiest chap on this earth ! 

(She shrinks back tremblingly. He approaches a step 
nearer to her.) 

I am not going to worry you — I'm only going to ask 
— if it's " no." Well, I hope I'll take it standing 
like a man. 

(He pauses and looks at her. She makes no reply ; she 
is staring straight ahead of her) 

I'm not much of a man at talking about these things, 
I've never had any experience. I only know I love 
the very ground you walk upon ; I'd lay down my 
life for you any time ! I don't know how it's hap- 
pened — it was being here, seeing you every day. I 
couldn't help falling in love with you. And now it 
means everything in the world to me ! 

(She half turns so that he may not see her face) 

Madge, I'm not a soldier — not, perhaps, the class of 
man you'd have chosen for a husband. I was a bit 
rough once ; perhaps the corners aren't quite gone 
yet, but they will in time. I'm working very hard. 
I only know I love you, would give anything in the 
world to make you happy ! (Pause, he looks plead- 
ingly at her.) 



Act [.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" 20 

Madge (r. of table, turning round, tremblingly). 
You think I am the wife to make you happy ? 

Hook (l. of table, eagerly). Think ! It's just the 
one thing on earth I count as a prize. 

Madge (faintly). But suppose my love didn't 
equal yours ? 

Hook. It would in time ; I'd make it ! (He half 
turns away, suddenly with change of tone.) I don't 
want to worry you ! I've told you what it means 
to me ; but there, it'll be all right if you want to 
say " no." Just because a man asks you, you aren't 
bound to say " yes," are you ? (Pause.) Even if 
it does just mean to him the difference between 
Heaven and Hell. You don't owe anything to me ; 
you've no need to make me happy unless, unless you 
want to. (Turning to her imploringly.) Well, what 
do you say ? 

Madge (after a pause, speaking with difficulty). I 
— I'll try and make you happy. 

Hook (catching her hand and pressing it to his 
lips, excitedly). You — you mean it ? (Slight move- 
ment c.) 

Madge. I only ask one thing — don't speak about 
it for a day or so. (Forcing a smile.) You see, I 
want to get used to the idea. 

Hook. Anything ! (Holding her hand again, 
slowly.) You've given me such happiness to-day, 
that I can hardly ever repay you. But I'll do my 
best ; I'll give up my life to do it. Every debt should 
be repaid, shouldn't it ? 

Madge (turning her head away from him, slowly). 
Yes, every debt should be repaid ! 

(Enter Rodd l.2.e. He holds the door open. Hook 
springs apart from Madge.) 

Rodd. Miss Dolly Banter and Lady Nora Hervey, 
miss ! 

(Enter Dolly and Lady Nora quickly, Dolly is 



30 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. 

an energetic-looking girl of about twenty -three, 
her dress is decidedly " sporty" Lady Nora is a 
tall, graceful woman, a few years older, handsome 
and reposed in manner.) 

Dolly. This is Lady Nora Hervey, a pal of ours, 
Nora, Miss Madge Kederby. (Hurrying forward to 
Madge.) How do, Madge ; hullo, Dickie, going 
strong ? 

(Colonel and Ronald appear at windows, arm in 
arm; they enter the room) yy 

(To Colonel.) Oh, good-morning, Colonel ; and 
you too, Ronald ; what a big boy you're growing ! 
Colonel Sir Bruce Kederby — Lady Nora Hervey — 
there you are, there you are ! 

(She turns with a laugh to Hook. Colonel greets 
Lady Nora courteously, and introduces her in turn 
to Ronald and Madge.) 

(Turning round to her.) Nora dear, this is Mr. Dickie 
Hook — beg pardon, Richard. 

(Introduces them ; Lady Nora bows distantly and sits.) 

Suppose you're wondering at my springing in on you 
when I'm dining here to-night. Fact is we're getting 
up a scratch tennis party this afternoon, and it struck 
me that some of you would perhaps like to help us 
out ! So I had the new cob put in, and here we are ! 
(To Dickie.) She did the three miles in eleven 
minutes without turning a hair — fact, my boy ! 

Colonel. It's very kind of you ! Afraid, how- 
ever, I must decline ; I have to go into Towchester. 

Dolly. Well, then, Madge, you will ? And 
Ronald, you too ? (Turning to Hook.) And of 
course you will, you're not engaged ? 

Hook (excitedly). Oh, yes — I am — that is, I shall 
be delighted. 

Dolly. Right, you're booked. That's settled — 
three o'clock sharp, and no jibbing at the post ! 



Act I.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 31 

Colonel. Lady Nora, I trust you will join the 
party from the Cedars, and dine with us this evening ? 

Lady Nora. Thank you, I shall be very pleased ! 

Dolly (who has been chatting to Hook, swinging 
round). Oh, I say, Sir Bruce, Nora met an old pal 
of ours while she was away — came home on the same 
ship as far as Alexandria. Give you three guesses ! 
What, no tries ? Why, Kit Wynne ! 

Colonel (to Lady Nora). Really. We have 
known Sir Christopher Wynne since he was quite a 
little chap ! Our children and he practically grew 
up together ! 

LadyN. Yes, he spoke of his friends here. (Looks 
towards Madge.) 

Colonel (laughing). Oh, he and Madge used to 
have great times together. I daresay you know his 
history — how he has been roughing it in the Colonies, 
and now has suddenly stepped into his uncle's estates 
and fortune ? I suppose he was in a fever to get 
home ? 

Lady N. Well, hardly, else he would have arrived 
as soon as I have. When I left him he was in a state 
of delightful uncertainty as to his movements ! He 
wanted to see Cairo, and was coming through Paris ; 
so it's rather difficult to. say when he's likely to be 
back ! 

(Dolly is down stage with Hook, going to piano and 
taking up photograph.) 

Dolly. I always think that a very good likeness 
of Kit. What do you think, Nora ? 

(Madge starts. Lady Nora and Colonel come 
down stage. Lady Nora takes photo and examines 
it. Dolly turns to Madge, and puts it on table.) 

Just taken before he left, wasn't it, Madge ? 

Madge (faintly). Yes. (Turns away, meets Lady 
Nora's glance.) Do you think it a good likeness ? 



32 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. 

Lady N. (looking at her with deliberate smile). I'm 
afraid you will find he has changed a good deal. 

Dolly (briskly). Well, Sir Bruce, we must be 
heading off. Mustn't keep the governor waiting for 
his feed, you know. Nothing touches him so much ! 

Colonel. Come through the garden ; our roses 
are well worth seeing ! 

(He leads the way with Lady Nora ; Dolly follows, 
also Ronald and Madge.) 

(Hook lingers behind in the room. He watches them 
disappear, then turns and stands with his legs apart, 
his hands in his pockets, a smile of absolute happy 
triumph on his face. Dolly re-appears on path, 
pokes her head into the room.) 

Dolly. Dickie ! 

(He swings round.) 

I've picked up a delightfully funny story, a real good 
'un. Don't forget to ask me this afternoon. That's 
all. So long ! 

(Makes her exit.) 

Hook. I can hardly believe it yet. My head's 
just buzzing with happiness ! (Sits down in chair 
and assumes attitude of forced composure.) You 
don't want any more proof, Dickie ! You're a gen- 
tleman at last. Would she have had me, bless her, 
if I was a husband she'd be ashamed of ! (Sitting 
up, patting his chest.) I'm good enough for her, then 
I'm good enough for the whole world ! (Suddenly 
breaking into a laugh.) Oh, it's just tremendously 
all right, it is ! Lord, what a thing love is ! 

(Door L.2.E. opens and Rodd enters, ushering in Miss 
Agatha Kederby, the Colonel's sister. She is 
a tall upright old lady, with a somewhat hard-looking 
face.) 

Rodd. This way, madam. 



A( t I.] ' WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 33 

Miss Agatha (giving Rodd a card). Will you tell 
Sir Bruce, Miss Agatha Kederby is here ! 

Rodd. Yes, madam, I will go and find him. 
(Enthusiastically.) You've come on just the right 
day, madam — the day, madam ! 

(Makes his exit through windows.) 

(Miss Agatha starts after him.) 

Hook (coming forward and bowing). The Anniver- 
sary of Vallapore, you know. Sir Bruce is seeing 
some visitors through the garden. Perhaps you will 
allow me to entertain you for a few moments. 

Miss A. (staring at him hard, she speaks in abrupt 
tone). Entertain me ! I don't want any entertain- 
ing. Who on earth are you ? 

Hook. Only Mr. Hook, madam — merely Mr. 
Richard Hook. 

Miss A. 'Em ! (Still staring.) On business ? 

Hook. No, madam — friend of the family. 

Miss A. A what ? 

Hook. A visitor. I've been staying here some 
time. 

Miss A. (with a shrug). Really ! (Goes up r.c.) 

(She turns away and takes a few steps down stage l., 
examining the room. Hook takes hold of a chair as 
if about to offer it to her, then scratches his head as if 
an idea had suddenly come to him ; he pulls out his 
" Complete Gentleman " and surreptitiously examines 
it, puts it away and looks towards her nervously ; 
she is by the piano, and glancing at the pictures.) 

Hook (leaning on table). Charmin' weather we're 
having for this time of year ; the roads are just right 
now. Do you motor ? 

Miss A. (swinging round). Motor ! Good heavens, 
no ! (Turns and picks up photo and examines it.) 

Hook (after nervous glances at her). Ah, I dare- 
say you read more ? (Pulls out book again and opens 
it stealthily.) Have you read the Morals of Cynthia ? 



34 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. 

(Slips book behind him quickly as she turns her head.) 

Miss A. (abruptly). No ! 

Hook. That's a pity ; well worth wading through, 
don't you know ! 

Miss A. (without turning her head, still intent on 
photo). I don't wade. (Sits down.) 

Hook (putting book back in pocket, half aside, in 
despair). Don't think much of these " Conversa- 
tional Openings ! " 

Miss A. (putting down photo, turning and surveying 
him, after a pause). Well, have you any more small 
talk? 

Hook {nervously). No, have you ? I wish some- 
body would come in. (Aside.) 

Miss A. (sitting down, grimly). I am not renowned 
for my small talk ! 

(There is an awkward pause. Hook leans against 
edge of table and makes a vain attempt to appear at 
ease, picks up paper and looks at it.) 

Hook (suddenly). Capital speech that, in the 
House last night 

Miss A. Which one ? 

Hook (hurriedly). I don't know, but it was splen- 
didly striking, don't you know. 

(Colonel appears at windows, Miss Agatha rises to 
her feet. Hook slips off table and moves r., sees 
Colonel.) 

(In tone of relief.) Thank the Lord ! (To door r.) 

Colonel (entering, stands before Miss Agatha in 
attitude of surprise). By Jove, Agatha ! 

Miss A. Rather surprised, Bruce ? 

Colonel. Well, somewhat ! You see 

Miss A. Look here, Bruce, I'm a plain-spoken 
woman. 

Hook. You are, by gum, you are ! 



Act J.] ' ; WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 35 

Miss A. And it struck me as being rather silly to 
keep up a family quarrel for more than fifteen years ! 

Colonel. It is a long time ; I have almost for- 
gotten what it was about. 

Miss A. Well, never mind that. Anyway, I've 
come to know whether you care to resume acquaint- 
ance with your sister ? If I did insult you in the 
past, well, I won't do it in the future without occasion ! 
You can't expect me to say more than that, can you ? 

Colonel. My dear Agatha, it is more than gener- 
ous of you ! I never knew you say so much before. 

Miss A. I'm getting soft in my old age. I take 
it, then, we're to be friends again ? 

Colonel. Delighted, my dear Agatha, delighted ! 
Have you come to stay with us ? 

Miss A. Yes, but I won't come under false colours. 
I'm not the rich woman I was, Bruce, and I've sold 
my place in Norfolk. 

Colonel (starts). Sold Framage ? But 

Miss A. Unfortunate investments. 

(Colonel looks at her, then steps forward and shakes 
her by the hand impulsively. She looks surprised.) 

Colonel. It's in the blood ! Oh, I mean affec- 
tion. 

Miss A. But I'm quite independent ; you needn't 
think I shall sponge on you in any way. I'm just 
an independent old woman with a few hundreds a 
year. I propose to spend a week or so with you, 
then clear off to a boarding-house. Will that suit 
you ? If it don't, speak out like a man. 

Colonel. Well, then, as a man I'll speak out and 
say it will ! Ton my word, Agatha, I think I shall 
findjyour society quite refreshing. 

(He goes up l.c. Enter Madge.) 

Hook (half aside to Madge). I bet he will ! 
Miss A. That's your daughter, I suppose. I 
forget her name, what is it ? 



36 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO I " [Act I. 

Colonel (going to Madge, putting his arm round 
her affectionately). Yes, this is Madge. 

Miss A. (holding out her hand). Will you shake 
hands with your aunt — (Madge attempts to kiss, and 
is repulsed) — I never kiss ! 

(They shake hands. Miss Agatha stares at her critically.) 

Madge. I have often wanted to know you. 

Miss A. Really, you must have strange tastes, 
then. (Rises.) 

Colonel. And the boy, Ronald, is home now too. 
So you will see us all ! 

Miss A. (indicating Hook). I have already had 
the pleasure of knowing this gentleman. He intro- 
duced himself, and was good enough to entertain me. 
He asked me if I motored, and whether I had read 
the Morals of Cynthia ; he said he was a visitor here. 

(A ghost of a smile flickers over the Colonel's face, 
then he laughs lightly.) 

Colonel. Yes, Mr. Hook is my guest at present. 
(To Hook.) Thank you, Hook, for looking after my 
sister ! 

Hook (nervously). A pleasure, Sir Bruce, a plea- 
sure ! 

Miss A. (turning in a business-like manner towards 
L.2.E.). As we've settled matters, I'd like to go to 
my room. (To Madge.) Perhaps you will show me 
one ? 

Madge (going L.2.E., opening door). Of course. 
Come along, aunt ! 

(Exit both L.2.E.) 

Colonel. Extraordinary for her to turn up again 
like this ! Do you know, Hook, she hasn't spoken 
to me for fifteen years. Quite unconsciously I 
offended her in some way. 

Hook. A nasty temper, eh, Sir Bruce ? (Strolls 
up towards windows and looks along path.) 



Act I.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 37 

Colonel (laughing). Well, well, call it eccentric ! 
She's a very good sort really, but has sometimes 
rather a queer way of showing it. (Walks towards 

r.i.e.) I'm glad she has come round at last, still 

(Gives a glance up stage at Hook's figure, with a shrug, 
opening door R.2.E.) I'd rather not have to explain 
things. She won't be able to swallow him. It was 
a pretty big gulp in my own case. 

(Exit off r.i.) 

Hook (coming down stage excitedly). When shall 
I be able to see her alone again ! I can't think, I 
can't talk, can't do anything ! It's just wonderful 
to think that you, Dickie Hook, are engaged to the 
sweetest little lady that ever trod the earth. En- 
gaged ! And loved by her, for my own sake. I 
simply didn't know I was alive before ! What luck ! 
(Walking towards r.e.) Dickie Hook, you are going 
to send for the finest ring that can be found in London. 
What luck ! (Sits in big chair at desk and writes.) 

(Enter Ronald ; he comes running along the path in 
state of great excitement.) 

Ronald (calling). Madge ! Where are you ? I've 
got grand news ! Where on earth is she ? Madge ! 
(Opening door L.2.E., as he does so.) 

(Madge enters.) 

Ah, here you are ! I've been looking for you every- 
where. 

Madge. Don't you know that ? 

Ronald (excitedly). No, no. Just you listen, to 
me. Great news — who do you think is coming up 
the lane ; he stopped to talk to Lady Nora and Dolly 
Banter ; I ran on to tell you. Now, guess. 

(They move up stage towards windows.) 

Madge (wonderingly) . How can I ? (Catching 
hold of his arm tremblingly .) Not — not Kit ? 



38 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. 

Ronald (triumphantly). Yes, Kit Wynne ! He 
came back suddenly, overland from Brindisi, and 
arrived this morning ! 

(Madge puts a hand on the back of a chair for support.) 

And he came along here at once ! (Laughing) To 
see you, Madge ! Ton my word, you are a lucky 
girl ! I'll bet ten to one you're Lady Wynne before 
a year's out. 

(Hook overhears, gives a start, and sits back in chair 
unseen by them.) 

Madge (hurriedly, with a sob in her voice). No, no, 
Ronnie. (She sinks down in the chair, and buries her 
face in her hands.) 

Ronald (bending over her in surprise). What's 
the matter, Madge ? I — don't cry, dear — what is it ? 

Madge (looking up, wearily). You will have to 
know. This morning Mr. Hook asked me to be his 
wife — and I — I gave my consent ! 

Ronald. Promised to marry Hook ! Good Lord ! 

(She nods her head, then buries her face again.) 

But, Madge, it's impossible ! He's a good fellow, 
but an outsider- — quite an. outsider — you don't love 
him ? 

Madge. No, I don't love him. (Clutches hold of 
Ronald's arm.) Oh, don't you see ? When he 
had so generously saved you from ruin — what should 
I say ? 

Ronald. You accepted him because — because of 
what he has done ? 

Madge. How could I do otherwise, when he 
saved you from disgrace — saved father's name from 
dishonour ? (Crosses c.) Every deb* must be re- 
paid. I have paid ours ! 

Ronald. But, Madge (Rises and crosses c.) 

Think what it means — the man himself — the- 

Madge, I have thought — of what we owe him. 
(Sits L. of table C.) I have given my word. 



Act L] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 39 

Ronald. And all the time you love Kit Wynne. 
Oh, it's awful ! (Walks up to window.) 

Madge. Don't make it worse for me, Ronnie ! 
It's got to be done. And — he must never guess. 
We must be as generous as he has been. (Forcing a 
laugh.) Besides, I don't think I ever loved 

Ronald (looking along path). Here is Kit. I'll 
be off. 

Madge. Don't go, Ronnie — don't leave me ! 

(Enter Sir Christopher Wynne. He is a handsome, 
sunburnt young fellow of twenty -five. He steps into 
the room and holds out his hand.) 

Wynne. Madge ! 

Madge (shrinking back). Kit ! 

Wynne (stepping forward and clasping her hand). 
I suppose Ronnie told you how I got here ? (Looking 
into her face.) And how are you, little girl, after all 
this time ? 

(Looking round at Ronald who is still on path and 
with head turned the other way, ardently.) 

Just the same Madge as I left ? 

Madge (withdrawing her hand). No, not quite the 
same Madge. 

(He looks surprised. Ronald glances at them, and 
comes to the rescue.) 

Ronald. Oh, there's the governor on the lawn. 
Come along, Kit ! He'll be dying to see you. 

Madge (going to window). Yes, you must see 
father ; come along ! 

Wynne (reluctantly). Oh, very well. We must 
have our talk afterwards, then. 

(All three make their exit along path.) 

(As soon as they disappear, Hook jumps up from his 
chair, runs to windows and looks out after them. 
Running his hand over his hair, wearily.) 



40 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. 

Hook (brokenly). Not because she loved me — but 
because she knew I helped her brother' — an outsider 
■ — not of her class — giving up another man. (Puts 
his hand to his head, then looks along path again.) 
Now what would a gentleman do ? (Takes out his 
little book, scans it, then throws it to the ground with a 
look of disgust. Enters the room and sinks into a 
chair.) What would a gentleman do ? 

(Curtain.) 



ACT II 




R.U.E. 



Backcloth showing garden by moonlight 



Open glass doors 




Billiard 
room. 



Round 
table and 
chair 



R.I.E. 



I Fountain j 



Seat 

II Drawing 
L.I..E. room 



The interior of a hall can be used for this scene, if more convenient. 

Scene. — The conservatory. It is formed by painted 
walls reaching halfway up the stage, and completed 
by a large semi-circle of glass. In this, up stage, 
are two open glass doors, r.u.e. and l.u.e., showing 
portion of the grounds. In the walls, down stage, are 
two doors, one l.i.e., leading to the drawing-room, 
the other, r.i.e., to the billiard room. In the centre 
of the stage is a large fountain, and a little to the left 
of this a long iron conservatory seat, whilst down 
stage L. is a small iron table and chair. Palms and 
ferns complete the furniture. 



42 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" [Act II. 

Time. — Same day, after dinner. 

Note. — All the characters are in evening dress during 
this Act. 

(As the curtain rises, Hook is discovered sitting on 
edge of fountain c. smoking. He is facing l., and 
is deep in thought. From the drawing-room L. the 
sound of a piano being softly played can be heard, 
whilst from the billiard room R. comes the click of 
the balls and people's voices, laughing and talking. 
Door r.i.e. opens, talk becoming the louder for the 
moment as it is open, and Dolly appears with cue 
in hand. She looks round, sees Hook, then steals 
across quietly and prods him in the back with the 
cue. He turns round with a start.) 

Dolly (laughing). What a slack beast you are, 
Dickie ! 

Hook (stifling a yawn). Yes, I'm pretty slack 
to-night. What are you doing ? 

Dolly (holding her cue out). Playing pills with 
Kit Wynne, Ronnie and Nora. I've come to fetch 
you. (Indicating l.i.e. with cue.) S'pose Madge is 
doing duty in with the old aunt and the Colonel. 
Drefful slow for her, poor girl. 

Hook. Oh, I don't know. She likes being with 
her father. 

Dolly. She likes being with some one else a great 
deal better ! (Taking hold of his arm.) Come along, 
Dickie, and play pills. 

(Door l.i.e. opens, and Rodd enters carrying a tray 
with two empty coffee cups. He is very excited, and 
though not drunk is pleasantly on the way towards 
it.) 

Rodd. Pills! Pills! Who said "pills"? Gad, 
we gave 'em pills that day ! 



Act II.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 43 

{He stumps with his stiff leg excitedly across stage, and 
puts his tray down on the little iron table r., then to 
where Dolly is standing, laughing at him.) 

Dolly (mischievously). What day was that, 
Rodd? 

Rodd. What day ! Good 'eavens ! (Half aside.) 
Is the wee woman mad ? (Turns and lays hand 
heavily on Hook's shoulder.) It would 'ave done 
your heart good to 'ave seen the Colonel leading us 
through to the gates ; clean through their lines we 
'ad to go, and didn't we know it ! I can 'ear the 
bugle now. And then orf we went on that last 'arf 
mile — right into the thick of sending the devils helter- 
skelter. (Seizing the cue from Dolly's hand, cutting 
right and left with it wildly.) There, there, not two 
'undred yards away, there's the gate in sight ! One 
more spurt, damme — we're through — and Lord, they 
'ave carved me leg ! 

(His cork leg has been unable to stand the strain of his 
stumping about, and he sinks down suddenly on the 
long iron seat, the leg sticking out straight in front of 
him. He bends it carefully down again.) 

(In a subdued tone.) Yes, the devils did for me that 
day, yes, but we did for them ! And I'm with the 
Colonel still, an' I got this. (Fingering a medal.) 
And hang me, if anything else much matters ! 

Dolly (taking a flower from her dress, in a tone of 
command). Sergeant Rodd ! Attention ! 

(He salutes stiffly.) 

You're a jolly good sort, and I award you the order 
of the white carnation ! 

(She puts it in his coat, and he salutes again.) 

Rodd. Thanky 'ee, miss ! I'll go and drink your 
'ealth. (Marches towards table ; half way, turns 
round to Hook.) An' your health too, sir. 

Hook. Thank vou, Rodd. 



44 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. 

Rodd (picking up his tray, banging his fist on the 
table). And everybody's health ! 

Hook. I should do it in tea, Rodd. 

Rodd. Tea on this day, good 'eavens, sir ! Men 
of the 21st Hussars. Attention ! Right turn t 
Quick march ! (Singing.) 

(Marches up stage, humming the British Grenadiers ,. 
and makes his exit r.u.e.) 

Hook. I wonder which'll hold out the longer, 
Rodd or the whisky ? 

Dolly (laughing, looking r.u.e.). I'll back old 
Rodd. (Turns to Hook.) Come along, Dickie, and 
play pills. 

Hook. I don't think I'll play billiards just now ; 
I'll stay here and finish my smoke, if you don't mind. 

Dolly (looking round). Look here, Dickie, what's 
the matter ? Had a bad day ? (Going -up to Hook.) 

Hook. No, no ! Just a kind of fancy. Give me 
two or three minutes more, and I'll be ready for any 
sort of fun you can name. 

Dolly (crossing towards r.i.e.). All right ; I'll 
give you just five minutes. No hedging ! You see 
it's rather awkward for me unless you help me out ! 

Hook. Awkward ? Why — how ? 

Dolly (turning round to him). How thick you 
are, Dickie ! Don't you know that Kit Wynne and 
Madge were awfully keen on one another before he 
went to Australia ? 

Hook. Oh yes, of course — that is, I s'pose they 
were. 

Dolly. And that boy Ronald seems to be rather 
keen on Nora. So, don't you see, I have to count 
on you to give me some fun, else I'm in for rather a 
slow time. Catch on ? 

Hook (nodding). We'll have a real good time 
together, in — in a few minutes, eh ? 

Dolly (laughing and running towards r.i.e.). 
Thanks ! I never spoil sport, you know. 



Act II.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 4.> 

Hook. Oh no, we mustn't spoil sport ! 
Dolly (waving her hand). So long — five minutes 
remember. 

(Exit R.I.E.) 

Hook (looking after her reflectively). Spoil sport I 
Letting him and her be together ! (Shrugs his shoul- 
ders, and takes a step or two towards fountain, sud- 
denly puts his hand to his forehead.) Oh, if he hadn't 
come back, if I hadn't heard. (Fiercely, forgetting 
his lis in his excitement.) I wasn't supposed to 'ave 
'eard ! (Coming towards l.i.e.) 

(He stops suddenly as the piano is again heard in the 
drawing-room, and Madge begins to sing a little love 
ballad. He creeps down to l.i.e., and turns the 
handle and opens the door half an inch or so that the 
words are heard more plainly. He listens, and the 
fierceness dies from his face. As the song comes to 
a finish, he walks with bent shoulders to garden seat 
l., and sinks down with a sigh.) 

(Softly.) Yet I did hear, understood, and 

(Pause, then he puts his chest out and sticks cigar in 
the corner of his mouth). I'm a gentleman ! 

(Door opens l.i.e., and Colonel and Miss Agatha 
enter arm in arm.) 

Miss A. Not a bad voice ; I've heard a good 
many better. 

Colonel. But none sweeter, Agatha. 

Miss A. Don't be sentimental, Bruce. It gets 
on my nerves. 

(Hook has sprung to his feet.) 

Hook (politely). Will you sit here? 
Miss A. No. (Grimly.) Unless you wish to 
entertain me. 

Hook (nervously). No, no ; that is 



46 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. 

Colonel (with a smile). The night's simply glori- 
ous ; shall we take a stroll ? The air's so warm that 
there's no risk of your catching cold. 

Miss A. Who said there was ? I'm not one of 
your new fandangled women, afraid to take a mouthful 
of fresh air ! (Turning round.) Give me a shawl, 
and I shall be all right. 

Colonel (crossing hurriedly l.i.e., calling). Madge, 
dear, bring your aunt's shawl ; it's on the couch. 

Miss A. (facing Hook). And I think the men of 
the present day are getting worse than the women. 

Hook (nervously). You do ? I believe you're 
right. 

(Enter Madge l.i.e. with shawl. She puts it over Miss 
Agatha's shoulders. Colonel lighting cigar.) 

Miss A. Thanks, child. Now I'm ready ! Bruce, 
give me your arm. You can light that cigar outside. 

(Colonel gives a smiling look of resignation to Madge, 
then takes his sister's arm ; they walk up stage 
together) 

Colonel. It's quite like old times, Agatha. 
Miss A. Don't talk nonsense, Bruce. 
Colonel. My dear, I won't. You shall do it all 
yourself. 

(Exit both r.u.e.) 

(Madge and Hook are left staring after them ; they 
turn slowly and face one another. She gives a little 
nervous start, and takes a step towards r.i.e.) 

Madge (nervously) . Are you coming to the billiard 
room, Mr. Hook ? 

Hook (taking a step towards her, looking round to 
see they are alone.) Not for a moment. I was won- 
dering if you could spare me a minute. I've been 
waiting for a chance to catch you. 

Madge (hesitates for a moment, then crosses and 



Act II.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO?" 47 

sits down on seat l. with an effort, gently). Why, yes, 
of course, Mr. Hook. 

Hook (awkwardly). It's just something I want 

to tell you — about a mistake. I (His voice 

stops.) 

Madge. A mistake ? 

Hook (turning away, after a pause). Yes, a real 
bad sort of mistake ! (Facing her, pulling himself 
together.) This morning I asked you to be my wife 
— you consented. 

Madge (looking at him, startled). I consented, 
yes. 

Hook (making an ill attempt at jocularity). Yes, 
that's where the mistake comes in ! 

Madge. You mean ? 

Hook. Well, I shouldn't have asked you. (Facing 
her with a sudden brusqueness .) To cut the matter 
short, will you let me off ? 

Madge (bewildered) . Let you off ? 

Hook. I've thought the matter over, and don't 
want to marry you. 

Madge (unable to conceal the joy in her voice). I 
am free, then ? 

Hook. Yes, just forget that our little conversation 
ever occurred ; no one knows about it, so none will 
be a penny the wiser. (Almost roughly.) What do 
you say ? 

(Madge takes a step down stage, and stands with clasped 
hands. Directly she cannot see him, Hook's ex- 
pression changes, and there is an imploring look on 
his face.) 

Madge. It shall be as you wish ! (Turning 
round to him.) I suppose you find you didn't love 
me after all, that's what you said 

Hook (laughing helplessly). I did it on impulse. 
Yes, suppose it was impulse. 

(She is looking at him intently ; he begins to laugh 



48 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. 

again, but it dies away as he sees something in her 
eyes.) 

Madge (hesitatingly). I don't think you're that 
kind of man ! 

Hook (slowly). That kind of man ? 

Madge. To do a thing like that on impulse. Oh, 
I don't understand, yet 

Hook (going to her). Yet you're glad. 

(She looks up startled.) 

Yet, you're glad ! 

(She drops her head ; he laughs gently.) 

So you ought to be. You wouldn't be the daughter 
of Sir Bruce Kederby, C.B., if you weren't. 

(Again she looks up ; he silences her with a gesture.) 

It's right all the way, just listen ! (He leans on the 
back of his seat.) Money can do most things in this 
world. It can give you a house in Park Lane, any 
sort of kickshaws you can name, it can make a snob 
of you, and that's what I've been. I spoofed 
myself I was a gentleman, bragged of it to you this 
morning. And now I know I'm only a bounder, just 
the every-day sort of bounder who has had his head 
turned by a pile of money ! (After pause.) And, 
being a bounder, I got it fixed in my head that it 
would be a big thing to marry the daughter of Sir 
Bruce Kederby, and I went for the idea. You know 
what happened — she consented ; strikin' wonderful 
thing, wasn't it ? (His voice softens.) But I some- 
how had got a glimpse of why she did it. 

(Madge goes c.) 

And somehow the bounder was ashamed, and saw it 
all of a heap, that money can buy a wife but not the 
love of a real little lady ! (Crosses c.) 

Madge (softly). I don't know what to say — I'm 
only a girl — I'm very sorry if 



Act II.] '• WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 40 

Hook (turning round). There's nothing to be 
sony about, little lady ! I ought never to have 
asked you. (With an attempt at cheerfulness.) I 
shan't be miserable, you know ! I shall just get 
hold of somebody who likes my society, and forget 
all about it in a day or so. 

Madge (brightening). Then you didn't really love 
me ? 

Hook (looking at her, then turning away with a 
laugh). No, I didn't love— only the snob idea — 
the snob idea. 

Madge (holding out her hand). I don't think you 
a snob or a bounder ! 

(He takes her hand.) 

You have been more than generous ! 

Hook. That's just nice of you. (Pauses.) Now 
there's only just one thing left to make you the 
happiest girl in England. 

(She looks up with a start.) 

You see, I've guessed your secret ; I didn't know 
this morning, else — it's right, isn't it ? 

Madge (shyly). Yes, it's right ! 

Hook. He is just the best man in the world in 
your eyes, and you really love him ? 

Madge (turning away). Before he left, he — but 
now after all this time it may be different 

Hook. Yes, but you love him — you love him ? 
It's quite safe with me ! 

Madge (softly). Yes, if he's the same, I love him 
— if he's- the same! (Putting her hands up to her 
cheeks.) Oh ! 

Hook. Of course he's the same ! And you'll 
just be tremendously happy. 

Madge. I don't know how to thank you. (Paus- 
ing, half fearfully.) But, Ronnie — I found out what 
you did for him this morning. 

Hook (gruffly). I know, that's why you accepted 

c 



50 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO !" [Act II. 

me. I'll never do a thing I want to again if it's going 
to be found out. 

Madge. It was such a tremendous thing ! 

Hook. It was the littlest thing, in the world to 
me. Not a word more about it. (Turning to her 
impulsively.) There, just forget everything, except 
that you're free. It's good, ain't it ? And I'm in 
the same boat too ; I'm free to 

(Door opens quickly r.i.e. and Dolly appears, followed 
by Ronnie, Lady Nora and Wynne.) 

Dolly. Free to what, Dickie ? 

Hook. Why, to race you round the tennis courts, 

of course. The five minutes is up ? 

Dolly. Come along, my cheery sportsman ! 

(Exit Dolly and Hook r.u.e.) 

(Ronnie crosses to Madge l. side of fountain. Lady 
Nora and Wynne are down stage. Lady Nora 
glances at Dolly and Hook, and shrugs her shoulders 
disdainfully.) 

Ronnie (to Madge). You should have been with 
us, Madge. Kit has [been '"telling us a lot of his 
adventures. By Jove, he has roughed it ! 

(Madge looks towards Wynne and smiles.) 

Wynne. It makes one appreciate being at home 
again. (Crosses to Ronnie and Madge.) 

Lady N. (to Wynne). How long do you think 
the home sentiment will last in your case ? 

Wynne (staring at Madge). To the end of the 
chapter ! 

Lady N. (laughing). The first chapter ! There 
is always more to follow with men like you ! 

(He shakes his head.) 

Ronnie (to Lady Nora). You'll come a stroll, 
Lady Nora ? The grounds are awfully pretty by 
moonlight ! 



Act II.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 51 

Lady N. Oh, I love moonlight ! 

(Ronnie takes a step or two up stage r. Lady Nora 
prepares to follow, then turns to Wynne for a moment.) 

Don't crowd anything irrevocable into the first 
chapter, Sir Christopher ! The knot takes such a 
lot of undoing, you know. 

(Laughs and joins Ronnie ; they go up stage together 
and exit r.u.e.) 

Wynne (crossing to Madge, placing one foot on 
fountain). At last ! I've hardly had a chance of 
speaking to you, Madge, before now. (Looking at 
her.) By Jove, little girl, you haven't altered much 
yet ; how old are you ? Why, it must be 

Madge. Twenty-one and two months — terrible, 
isn't it ? And you, Kit, you are twenty-seven ! 

Wynne. And am I much changed ? 

Madge (looking at him searchingly). I don't know ; 
you look — more of a man, I think. Yes, that's it — 
more of a man. 

Wynne (laughing). I ought to ! It was pretty 
rough out there at first, Madge. 

Madge (softly). Poor Kit ! (Looking up at him 
with a smile.) Never mind, it's all changed now. 

Wynne. Yes, it's all right now. (Looking round.) 
Oh, you don't know what it means, Madge, to be 
back again amongst you all. (Looking at her.) To 
see you again. 

Madge. And we're awfully pleased, Kit, too ! 

Wynne. We ? 

Madge (rises, comes down stage to seat c.) Yes, 
I'm pleased, Kit. 

Wynne (following her). Don't you remember, 
Madge, it was just here, four years ago, that we said 
good-bye. 

Madge. Yes, I remember. 

Wynne. You were saying " good-bye " to a 
ne'er-do-well, a boy who had quarrelled with his 



52 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. 

uncle, the best friend he ever had. What a fool I 
was ! 

Madge. You only misunderstood each other. 
You had the pluck to be independent ! 

Wynne. The folly ! Yet he forgave me, left 
everything to me as he had originally intended ! 
And I never had the opportunity of thanking him. 

Madge. It wasn't your fault. 

Wynne. No, it couldn't be helped ; I was prac- 
tically starving in Australia when the news came. 
(He pauses, then looks down at her, softly.) Yes, it's 
very good to be back again, Madge. I often used to 
picture you, sitting here of an evening ; wondered 
if you sometimes thought of me ! Did you ? 

Madge (smiling reproachfully). Sometimes, Kit. 

Wynne. Perhaps I didn't wonder much, perhaps 
I knew ! You remember what passed between us 
that night, Madge ? 

Madge. I remember everything. 

Wynne. My future was uncertain ; I was going 
out to fight the world ! I couldn't bind you in any 
way ; you were to be free. If I went under — well, 
you would never have seen me again. If things 
came out right, I should come back to you — if you 
had not changed. 

(He stops suddenly as if in doubt whether to proceed ; 
she is looking at the water, and does not see his face. 
She begins to raise her head ; with a sudden impulse, 
he bends down and takes her hand) 

Things have come out right, Madge ; I have come 
back, and you have not changed ? 

Madge (looking at him with shining eyes, rising). 
No, not changed, Kit dear ; just the same ! 

Wynne (taking both her hands). This is the best 
night in my life ! (Takes her in his arms and kisses 
her.) 

Madge (linking her arm within his, they move up 
stage l.). To think it should have all come right 



Act II.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 53 

like this. To find you the same old Kit, not changed 
a bit ! 

Wynne. Not a bit ! (Is about to kiss her again.) 

Madge. Kit ! 

{Door r.i.e. opens and Rodd enters ; he marches in 
humming " Tommy Atkins," then sees Wynne and 
Madge. Madge gives a little laugh.) 

(Then escapes from Wynne and runs off R.2.E.) 

Rodd (slapping his thigh). Don't mind me, sir. 
Gad, but it's good news ! And to think of its hap- 
pening on the day, of all days ! Jove, sir, you're a 
lucky man ! She's as good as gold, and the man 
who says it is the man who nussed 'er as a babby, 
and 'as watched her every day since ; and 'e's the 
man that knows. Good luck to you, sir ! 

Wynne (laughing). Thank you, Rodd. 

Rodd (chuckling to himself , crossing r.i.e.) . I must 
go and drink your 'ealth, sir — both your 'ealths ! To 
think of its happening to-day. Lord, love me, I am 
having a night ! (He bangs the door open, and stumps 
excitedly through ; the cork leg suddenly goes stiff.) 
I've got so many 'ealths this evening, I don't want 
to forget any. Oh, damn that leg ! 

(Exit R.I.E.) 

Wynne (enthusiastically). He's right ; I am a 
lucky man ! 

(He turns to go after Madge, but stops as Lady Nora 
enters. She smiles and comes down stage to him. 
The boyish enthusiasm fades away, and he assumes 
the air of a man of the world.) 

Lady N. I sent the boy in to get some chocolates ; 
I always eat chocolates in the moonlight. 

Wynne (lighting a cigarette). Oh, indeed ! 

Lady N. Then I caught sight of a girlish figure 
running out from the door ; she was smiling, and 
her eyes held that look that means only one thing in 



54 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. 

a woman. Then I thought I'd just drop in for a 
moment, and 

Wynne. Congratulate me ? 

Lady N. It wasn't the word I was thinking of I 
So you've actually proposed to her, my friend ? 

Wynne (nodding). And been accepted. 

Lady N. Dear, dear ! What a sentimentalist 
you are ! After dinner, a conservator}/, a pretty 
face— and you fall a victim 

Wynne. Hardly accurate, is it ? It's only finish- 
ing what was begun four years ago. 

Lady N. The interval's too great ! Come, con- 
fess, my dear friend ; you are not the unsophisticated 
boy you were four years ago, although you are still 
the same sentimentalist. Life then meant marriage 
with the pretty little rustic maid, and existence in 
the same rustic surroundings. Now what does it 
mean ? 

Wynne. Much about the same — life with a pretty 
girl whom I love, the dearest little woman on 
earth. 

Lady N. (laughing). What a man you are for 
your illusions ! For the moment you are still think- 
ing yourself the simple, nice boy you were then. 
Now you are Sir Christopher Wynne, with an income 
far beyond an average man's wants ! And you've 
already tasted the delights of the world, far beyond 
the average man's wants. I suppose it was this 
overwhelming desire for sweet simplicity that made 
you spend weeks in Cairo, Monte Carlo, and Paris on 
the way home. 

(Wynne smokes on a trifle sullenly, but says nothing ; 
she approaches a trifle nearer to him.) 

And there was a pretty face that attracted you in 
each — now confess. 

Wynne. Would it not be superfluous, when you 
know so much ? 

Lady N. And do you remember that night when 



Act II.] '• WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 55 

you gave that delightful supper at the Cafe de Paris 
at Monte Carlo, and the moment when things were 
at their brightest you glanced round and whispered 
to me, " This is life ; I have only existed before ; 
that is the life I mean to lead." 

(She turns away laughing. Wynne continues to smoke 
with a dogged expression. She turns once again to 
him.) 

And you tell me seriously that this simple little person 
— just sweetly good, and nothing else, is going to fill 
a niche in that life. (Walking to fountain and sits.) 
My dear Sir Christopher, I admit men are extra- 
ordinary, but — well, there's a limit to a woman's 
credulity. 

Wynne. They say the only thing a woman won't 
believe is the truth ! 

Lady N. Yes, if it does happen to be the truth. 

Wynne. Only the future can convince you ! 
(Moving towards l.u.e.) You'll pardon me, but the 
newly engaged man, you know (Walks up stage.) 

Lady N. (laughingly). By all means ! I give 
3 T ou a fortnight. 

Wynne. And then ? 

Lady N. Oh, you'll ride away — as a man like 
you will always ride away when it's merely a case of 
a pretty face — and nothing else ! 

Wynne (he looks thoughtfully at her ; then a smile 
creeps slowly over his face). And in the meantime it 
is rather pleasant. (Bowing.) Au re voir ! 

Lady N. Au revoir, and the pleasantest of mean- 
times ! 

(Wynne makes his exit leisurely l.u.e.) 

(She watches him, then turns slowly and sits down on 
seat r. thoughtfully .) 

He knows I'm right ; yes, in his heart of hearts he 

knows I'm right. And when he does ride away 

(Rises, smiling.) Well, we shall see. A man who is 



56 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. 

" lifey " gets tired of a pretty face ; it's the clever 
woman who keeps his interest and marries him ! 

(Ronnie enters l.i.e. ; he is carrying a little silver 
basket of chocolates. She sees him and smiles.) 
Ronnie. I've been looking for you everywhere, 

Lady Nora ! (Holding basket out.) I got 'em from 

the dining-room table ; they hadn't cleared the show 

yet. 

Lady N. Will you ever forgive me for troubling 

you ; it was only a whim. I'm afraid I didn't really 

want them ! 

Ronnie (turning away, aside). Well, I'm 

(Crosses to table R., and puts basket down ; turns and 

looks admiringly at her.) 

(She has her back turned to him, and is standing by the 
fountain.) 

(Crosses to her ; she turns.) 

If you won't have the chocolates, will you have — er 
— the moonlight again ? 

Lady N. Not for a moment ; I have something 
to tell you, now guess ! 

Ronnie (bewildered). I'll give it up. 

Lady N. Something has happened to a near 
relative of yours — something that you might perhaps 
have expected. 

Ronnie. Why, not Madge and Kit ! 

(She nods.) 

They've fixed it up ? Well done, Kit ! I'm so 
glad. 

(Colonel and Miss Agatha enter arm in arm r.u.e.) 

Miss A. (to Colonel). So it all comes of your 
being fool enough to dabble in speculations, eh ? 
Now, what on earth could you know about making 
money ? (Putting hand on fountain.) 



Act II.] '" WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 57 

Colonel. I confess my ability to make money 
was not equal to my wonderful skill in losing it. But 
we all like to try ! 

Miss A. I know. If at first you don't succeed, 
try, try again— and go bankrupt. 

(Colonel sees Ronnie and Lady Nora ; touches 
Miss Agatha wamingly.) 

Ronnie {swinging round) . Hullo, governor ; heard 
the news — splendid, isn't it ? 

Colonel. I've hardly had a surfeit of splendid 
news lately ; what is this particular intelligence ? 

Ronnie. Why, that Kit and Madge have fixed 
it up. 

Miss A. Do, for Heaven's sake, talk English, boy. 
Fixed what up ? 

Ronnie. Become engaged ! Good, isn't it ? We 
all knew she was keen on him. 

Colonel {rubbing his hands). By Jove, he hasn't 
wasted much time ! (Turning to Miss Agatha.) 
I'm very pleased, Agatha ! 

Miss A. Well, anybody but a fool would be ! 
Thirty thousand a year, hasn't he ? 

Colonel. Oh, it's not that ! I only want to see 
my Madge happy ! Who told you, Ronnie boy ? 

Lady N. I did, Sir Bruce. I learnt it a second 
ago, and like a woman couldn't keep it to myself. 

Colonel. Where is Madge ? I want to see her. 

(Dolly Banter enters at a run r.u.e. Hook arrives 
a second afterwards.) 

Dolly. You're not half a sprinter, Dickie ; out 
of form, old boy. You owe me two pairs of gloves, 
and don't forget it ! 

Miss A. (throwing a backward glance in Dolly's 
direction). What creatures there are on God's earth ! 

Ronnie (crossing to Hook). Hook, old chap, 
Madge and Kit have come to an understanding ; I 
thought 



58 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. 

Hook (half mechanically). You shouldn't, she was 
free — free— I'm glad, you understand ! 

(Dolly has crossed to Lady Nora, and has been 
listening to her.) 

Dolly. Well, Kit's a regular flyer ; he's past the 
post when others would barely have got under way ! 

(Enter Madge l.i.e. She sees the others, and pauses 
for a moment, hesitatingly. Colonel with out- 
stretched arms crosses to her.) 

Colonel. My dear little girl, we know ! (Looking 
at her fondly.) No need to ask if you are pleased ! 

Madge (kissing him). You really don't mind, 
father ? 

Colonel (patting her). I'm delighted ! 

(Lady Nora and Dolly cluster round her.) 

Lady N. My best congratulations ! Sir Christo- 
pher is charming. 

Madge. Thank you ! 

Dolly. . A rattling good sort, Madge ! You've 
drawn a first prize. 

Ronnie (up stage, aside to Hook, who is watching 
the scene intently). Hook, I don't understand every- 
thing, but you've been a splendid pal. I can never 
repay 

Hook (indicating Madge who is laughing and 
smiling happily with Dolly and Lady Nora, half to 
himself). Isn't that enough repayment to see her 
like that ? 

(Ronnie stares wonderingly at him ; Hook suddenly 
awakes and turns on him) 

Oh, hang it, go and talk to the girls ; don't stop here 
boring me about your gratitude. I'm full up with 
it, do you hear ? 



Act II.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 59 

(Ronnie smiles and crosses down to the others. Hook 
turns and strolls r.u.e.) 

(Exit.) 

Ronnie (to Madge). I needn't tell you what I 
think about it, Madge, old girl. 

Madge (smiling, pressing his hand affectionately). 
I think I know Ronnie, dear. 

Miss A. (on seat). Child, come here ! 

(Madge goes to her.) 

Madge. Yes, aunt. 

Miss A. Now, tell me what sort of a young man 
is this ? Of course, I know he is good looking and 
has money. Is he honest, straightforward, manly, 
and with all the rest of the virtues ? 

Madge (smiling). Has any man got them all, 
aunt ? 

Miss A. Good ! If you had said " yes," I should 
have put you down as a fool. As it is, I hope you 
won't be more disappointed than most girls are in 
their husbands. 

Madge. Oh, thank you, aunt. 

Colonel (patting her on arm). That's a tremen- 
dous lot for your aunt to say, my dear. It practi- 
cally amounts to fulsome congratulations. 

Miss A. (sharply). It doesn't mean anything of 
the kind, Bruce. 

Colonel (shaking his head). Oh, don't tell me. 
(Looking round.) Well, where is Kit ? We all want 
to see him now. 

Madge. I think he is in the garden. (Moving a 
pace or so up stage.) I'll fetch him. 

(Door l.i.e. opens and Rodd enters ; he holds the door 
open) 

Rodd (thickly). Mr. Quayne— — 
Colonel (walking towards the door). Ah ! 



00 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO?" [Act IT. 

(Quayne enters with Geoffrey Seaton, a man of 
about thirty. He wears a short beard.) 

Colonel {shaking hands). Very good of you to 
come, Quayne ! How are you, Mr. Seat on ? Let 
me introduce you — my sister, Mr. Seaton — Lady 
Nora Hervey, Miss Banter — and this is my daughter 
— Madge dear, Mr. Seaton ! (Looking round.) 
Where's Hook ? (To Seaton.) The man from 
Australia I told you about, you know. You must 
have a yarn together, and we must all hear. An 
evening in Australia, what do you all say ? 

Quayne. I can assure you he has had some 
remarkable adventures, Sir Bruce. 

Colonel. Splendid ! And with three of 'em at 
it we ought to be well entertained ! Well, for the 
moment, shall we say the billiard room ? 

(Ronnie and Lady Nora, Dolly and Quayne move 
towards r.i.e. laughing together. Madge takes a 
step or two up stage.) 

(To Miss Agatha.) What would you like to do, 
Agatha ? 

Miss A. What I am going to do, Bruce, is to sit 
in the drawing-room quietly, by myself. (Moving 
towards l.i.e.) And I fancy that's what they all 
want me to do ! 

(Colonel and Seaton laughing follow the others into 
the billiard room r.i.e. Hook suddenly enters 
l.i.e. He holds the door open politely for Miss 
Agatha.) 

(To Hook.) I've found out about you ! I thought 
there must be some explanation ! 

Hook (nervously). That's highly satisfactory, that 
is ! (Pause, half fiercely.) Well, what of it ? What 
have you got to say ? 



Act XL] 'WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" 61 

Miss A. I haven't quite made up my mind. I'll 
tell you later if it would interest you. 

(Exit L.I.E.) 

Hook (looking after her, dryly). Yes, I expect it 
would be interesting ! 

(He turns and sees Madge at garden door r.u.e. ; she 
comes down towards him ; he goes up stage, and 
they meet by fountain.) 

Madge. I thought I'd just wait a moment to 

Hook. Tell me he was just the same ? 
Madge. Yes, just the same. Oh, you don't know 
how grateful I am to you, Mr. Hook ! 

Hook. Yes, I had a fortunate escape, hadn't I ? 

(She laughs ; he turns to her.) 

I suppose, if he hadn't been the same old Kit, if any- 
thing had happened, if he had changed, it would 
have broken your heart, eh ? 

Madge (thoughtfully). I think it would. (Smiling 
again.) But he hasn't ; he's just the same dear 
simple old Kit, and he loves me ! 

Hook. And his love means all the difference 
between happiness and misery to you ? 

Madge (slowly). Yes, all the difference. 

Hook (pulling out his cigarette case). Things 
couldn't have fallen out better, could they ? (Light- 
ing cigarette.) Wonderful, what a knack things have 
of coming out straight, isn't it ? 

(They walk up stage r. together.) 

Madge (laughing). Yes, wonderful, when they 
just get the touch to send them in the right direction. 
(Holding out her hand.) I must go and find him. 
Once more, thank you ! 

Hook (silencing her with a gesture). I'll go and 
drown myself in the fountain if I have another word 



(32 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO 7" [Act II. 

of thanks ! There, go and find him ; I don't expect 
you'll have much trouble ! 

Madge (at door). And what are you going to do ? 

Hook (enthusiastically). Have a clinking time 
with some one who understands my funny little 
ways ; she's my cut, just my cut, and a ripper 1 

(Door opens r.u.e., and Dolly and Lady Nora enter . 
Lady Nora crosses towards l.i.e.) 

Madge (looking at Dolly, then at Hook, smiling 
meaningly). I'm so glad ! 

(Exit R.U.E.) 

(Hook looks after her ; the enthusiasm dies out of his, 
face, and a look of dejection passes over it. He 
glances at Dolly, then crosses quietly up stage to 
l.u.e. with the intention of stealing out.) 

Lady N. (at l.i.e. to Dolly). I'm going to amuse 
myself with old Miss Kederby. Coming ? 

Dolly. No, thanks ; shouldn't call that amuse- 
ment. 

Lady N. Oh, Dolly ! 

(Lady Nora laughs and exit l.i.e.) 

Dolly (seeing Hook). Hallo, Dickie, where off to ? 
Hook. Oh, is that you ? 

(They come towards one another.) 

Dolly. Now, look here, Dickie, this is the second 
time you have given me the slip ! 

Hook. No, really ! 

Dolly. Well, it may be chance, or it mayn't. 
But I'd like to be sure ; don't hanker after having 
fun with you if you'd rather not, you know ! 

Hook (recklessly). Oh, I'm on for any kind of 
sport. (Coming c.) 

Dolly (holding out her hand.) Mean it ? 

Hook (shaking hands). All the way ! What shall 
we do ? 



Act II.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" 63 

(The sound of a piano playing a waltz is heard off in 
drawing-room L.) 

Dolly (laughing). That's old Nora ! What a 
jolly waltz ! (With air of inspiration.) Dickie ! 
Shall we ? There's nobody about. 

(Hook bows to her and offers his arm. She takes it, 
and they waltz down stage. Wynne and Madge 
appear at window r.u.e.) 

Where did you learn to waltz so nicely, Dickie ? 

Hook. Shilling hops in Melbourne. (He sees 
Madge.) Good, isn't it ? (Raising his voice.) We 
get on Ai together, don't we ? 

Dolly. Think so, really ? 

Hook (enthusiastically). By gum ! I haven't 
enjoyed anything so much for months ! Up we go 
again ! 

(Wynne touches Madge on arm, and they disappear 
from window r.u.e. Dolly and Hook get towards 
l.u.e., door r.i.e. opens and Colonel 0;^ Quayne 
appear.) 

Colonel. It's a shame to drag you away to talk 
business, Quayne ! 

Quayne. Not at all ! 

(They see Dolly and Hook, and laugh.) 

(The pair stop dancing suddenly. Hook offers his arm 
to Dolly. They stroll off.) 

Colonel. Young blood, Quayne, young blood ! 

(They stroll centre.) 

I've been thinking things over, Quayne, and I've 

come to a definite conclusion. The Grange will have 

to go, and I want you to put it up for sale at once. 

Quayne. But now that Miss Madge has made 
such a favourable match, Sir Bruce 

Colonel. No, Quayne, I'm not going to trade on 
that. There, my mind is made up. This last call of 



64 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. 

five thousand has done it. Of course it'll be a bit 
of a wrench, but 'pon my word, I'm not sure but I 
shall be glad ; so put it up, Quayne, and carry the 
thing through as soon as possible. The proceeds 
will enable me to clear myself and keep the boy in 
the Service. 

Quayne (with a sigh). Very well, Sir Bruce, I'll 
do my best ! 

Colonel. You don't think there will be any diffi- 
culty about a buyer ? 

Quayne. I'm not sure ; you see, it's an awkward 
size — too large for the English aristocracy, and too 
small for American millionaires ! 

Colonel. Gad, we must get something between 
the two ; anyhow, set about it at once, won't you ? 
And keep it as quiet as possible. 

(Piano starts off l.) 

Quayne. Very well, Sir Bruce, if your mind is 
made up ! 

(Door l.i.e. opens and Miss Agatha appears ; she 
hears the next few words without being observed.) 

Colonel (looking round, without seeing her). Jove, 
Quayne, for two hundred years the Kederbys have 
been here ; and now it's going, through my damned 
stupidity ! (Pulling himself up.) Well, the only 
thing is to take it standing 

Quayne (quietly). Like a Kederby ! 

Colonel (smiling). Yes, like a Kederby. (Sud- 
denly sees Miss Agatha.) Hullo, Agatha ! (Indi- 
cating l.i.e.) Is that Lady Nora playing ? 

Miss A. Yes, I asked her. I preferred her play- 
ing to her talking. But both jar ! Go in, and have 
your turn ! 

(Colonel hesitates.) 

Mr. Quayne will entertain me ! 



A.t II. ] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 65 

Colonel. There's a directness about your re- 
marks, Agatha, which is very refreshing ! 

(Exit L.I.E.) 
(Piano stops.) 

Miss A. (to Quayne). Are you a sensible man ? 

Quayne. I have two reputations — one amongst 
the clients for whom I have won cases, the other 
amongst those for whom I have lost them ! You 
have to put me to the test before you find out ! 

Miss A. Do you know much about mv affairs ? 
Be frank ! 

Quayne. Only hearsay ; I gathered that you 
had lost the most of your money through bad invest- 
ments ! 

Miss A. (chuckling). Man alive, you don't think 
I'm as big a fool as my brother, do you ? 

Quayne (looking at her quickly). You mean ? 

Miss A. That it suited my purpose to tell that 
tale. There, that's in confidence. Now, I want 
you to tell me clearly about all this muddle Bruce 
has got into. I came here to find out. 

Quayne. To help Sir Bruce ? 

Miss A. (gruffly). Oh, there's no sentiment ; I'm 
not a bit soft-hearted, only I don't want the Kederby 
name pulled through the mud, that's all. Now, will 
you come and have a talk in the garden ? 

Quayne. It would hardly be professional — as his 
solicitor ! 

Miss A. (in exasperated tones). As my solicitor, 
then? 

Quayne (offering his arm). Delighted ! 

Miss A. I shall, I think, find you sensible. Come 
along ! 

(Exit both r.u.e.) 

(Door opens r.i.e. Ronnie enters. Piano off l. has 
started again. Enter Dolly and Hook through 
windows l.u.e.) 



66 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO • " [Act II. 

Ronnie. I've been wondering where you two 
were ! 

Hook. We've been enjoying the rhododendrons 
by moonlight. 

Dolly (coming down stage). Nora still at it — who's 
with her ? We've just seen the old lady strolling 
with Mr. Quayne. Lucky man that ! 

Ronnie {going l.i.e.); Let's come along in and 
see. Jove, she plays rippingly ! 

(Exit l.i.e. , followed by Dolly.) 

(Hook strolls up stage to windows r.u.e. He looks 
out intently.) 

Hook (lighting a cigarette). There they are, arm 
in arm, she happier than she's ever been before ! 
And I've made her think I don't care. Don't care ! 
It was pretty tough work, but what's the odds if 
she's happy. I'd do a jolly sight more — yes, a jolly 
sight (Stops suddenly as he turns and sees Seaton.) 

(Enter Seaton.) 

Seaton. Hook ! 

Hook. What, Seaton ! What on earth are you 
doing here ? 

(They shake hands.) 

Seaton. I came over with Ouayne. 

Hook. Well, I am glad to see you. Come and 
have a drink in the billiard room, and we'll chow 
together, or would you rather sit here and smoke ? 
(Producing a cigar case and offering it to him.) 

Seaton (taking cigar, sitting down l.). Thanks, it 
is very pleasant here ! 

Hook. Well, I am glad to see you. How did 
you leave the boys down under ? (Sits R.c.) 

Seaton. Some of them doing well. Some gone 
to the devil and others going, just as I was going 
after that trouble of mine out there. Hook, old 



Act II.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 67 

chap, I've never had an opportunity of telling you 
what you saved me from. I should have been worse 
than any one of them, had you not pulled me up in 
time. I have never told you my history. Some day 
I may. But for the present I am in your debt all 
along the line, and when the time comes — (rises and 
shaking hands with Hook) and it may, one never 
knows — you have only to ask and I am yours, all 
the way. 

Hook. Oh, that's all right ; I am glad you pulled 
round. 

(Enter Wynne, who walks slowly down. Seaton has 
his back to him, and is engaged in lighting a cigar. 
Hook turns to Wynne.) 

Ah, we've been wanting you, Sir Christopher ! Here's 
another man from Australia. 

Seaton. Oh, really, I wonder if I know him ! 

(Seaton rises from his seat, and faces Wynne. They 
both give a start of recognition ; Wynne draws back 
with a scowl ; Seaton places his hands behind his 
back and smiles.) 

Hook (staring at them in surprise, mechanically). 
Mr. Seaton — Sir Christopher Wynne. 

(Door opens l.i.e., and Dolly enters, followed by 
Colonel. Wynne moves down stage quickly.) 

Colonel. Ah, so you two have got together at 
last! 

Seaton (slowly). Yes, we've met at last ! 

Colonel (crossing to Wynne, who has come down 
stage r.). Kit, my boy, is this right what they have 
been telling me ? 

Wynne (nervously). About Madge ? 

(Colonel nods.) 
Yes, with your consent, sir. 

Colonel (shaking hands, warmly). Delighted to 
give it, Kit. Nothing could have pleased me better ! 



68 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. 

(Madge enters r.u.e. ; she sees Wynne with Colonel, 
comes hesitatingly down stage to fountain. Seaton 
is looking intently across to Wynne. As Madge 
comes opposite to him, he looks at her.) 

Dolly (crosses to Wynne). Best wishes, Kit. 

Wynne {biting his lips, summoning a smile) . Thanks! 

Seaton (to Madge). Though a comparative 
stranger, I trust you will allow me to add my con- 
gratulations. 

Madge. It is very good of you ! (Shakes hands 
and sits on seat L.) 

(They go on talking ; Seaton shoots a hesitating glance 
at Wynne, when his face hardens. Hook is stand- 
ing behind them ; he watches Seaton with a puzzled 
glance.) 

Dolly (to Colonel). We never had the hundred 
up you promised me, Sir Bruce ! 

Colonel. We mustn't have any " breaks " in 
our billiard promises, must we ? Are you game 
now ? 

Dolly. Did you ever know me back out, Sir 
Bruce ? 

(Colonel laughs, and they make their exit r.i.e.) 

(Wynne sits down by table r. and picks up a news- 
paper. Hook up stage l. Madge has sat down on 
seat l. Seaton is standing before her.) 

Seaton (to Madge, with a short laugh). Yes, Miss 
Kederby, smooth enough in your case, I admit. But 
sometimes the course of true love takes a very crooked 
turn. 

Madge. Oh, not so very often, surely. 

Seaton. I came across a case in point a few days 
ago ; it was rather interesting. Shall I tell you ? 

Madge. Do, please. 

Seaton (puffing his cigar, deliberately). It began 



Act II.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 69 

this way : two men who had gone to seek their for- 
tune abroad came together in one of those places 
where fortunes are supposed to be made. 

(Wynne sits l.) 

They were both down on their luck, both Englishmen. 
So they chummed, fought the world together, shared 
the few ha'pence, endured the more than plentiful 
kicks ! Are you interested ? 
Madge. Very, please go on ! 

(At table down stage r. Wynne is listening eagerly.) 

Seaton. Well, there were only a few years be- 
tween them ; they got on fairly well together, con- 
sidering they were failures. Then one day the elder 
fell in love with a girl out there ; she was just a pretty 
slip of a girl, the daughter of an old schoolmaster. 
He fell deeply, really in love with her, and she re- 
turned it. Immediately the dream he had of becom- 
ing rich fell away from him ; all he desired was a 
small competence, and marriage out there with the 
slip of a girl. 

Madge. And did it come to pass ? 

Seaton. It was rather curious ! The younger 
man, the " chum " of course, shared the other's 
confidences. 

(Madge looks up quickly.) 

The chum becomes suddenly possessed of great wealth, 
left him by a relative, and prepares to clear out. 
About this time the elder man goes up country about 
a job he was in hopes of getting. In his absence the 
chum, instead of clearing out, devotes his attention 
to the girl ; remember, his position is changed, he is 
now a rich man. The result — he turns the girl's 
head, secures her love ! She writes the other man a 
letter telling him of it. 

Madge. How mean ! And did she marry the 
younger man ? 



70 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act IL 

Seaton (throwing down cigarette). No, he was 
only amusing himself ! He was fascinated with her 
pretty face ; when he tired he left abruptly — she 
broke her heart ! 

Madge (looking up at Seaton). Oh ! How did 
it all end ? 

Seaton. The end ! The elder man came back ; 
he would not have minded her marrying the other 
if it would have made her happy ; you see he loved 
her so. But he found her broken-hearted ; she 
could not love him again. (Pause, slowly.) A few 
months afterwards she vanished, a wasted life, wasted 
for nothing ! (Looking at Wynne.) 

(Wynne's face down stage has grown very stem ; he 

is controlling himself with an effort. Hook is also 

watching with curiosity.) 

Madge. Oh, it is cruel, cruel ! 

Seaton (his tone quickening). Now, the elder 
man, the man whose happiness was ruined, is back 
in England ; things came right for him also, that is, 
right in a certain way. I often wonder if he were to 
meet the other face to face what revenge he would 
take. Do you think he would be justified in taking 
revenge, Miss Kederby ? 

(Wynne rises to his feet and turns towards them, his 

feet agitated. Hook stares at him with strained 

face.) 

Madge (firmly). I think any revenge would be 
justified. 

Seaton (quickly). You think that ? (Slips his 
hand into his pocket and produces a photograph.) Then 
look on this ; it is the picture of the man who stole 

(He holds it out. With a sudden movement Hook 
dashes forward and tears it from him.) 

Hook (fiercely). There's no need ; I'm not going 
to lie ! 

Seaton. Yes, but Hook 



Act II.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 71 

(Seaton starts back with an exclamation ; Hook 
clutches him by the sleeve. Madge rises too, crosses 
to Wynne fearfully.) 

Hook. I admit it — admit it all ! And you've 
had your revenge before my friends, haven't you ? 

(Seaton looks slowly round at Wynne ; Madge has 
linked her arm within his.) 

You thought I did not recognize you in that beard, 
but I knew you at once, knew what you were going 
to do directly you began ! Are you satisfied ? 

(Seaton stands undecided. Hook's tone changes.) 

You've stopped my career here ; but I deserve it, 
more than deserve it ! (Sinks down on seat, fairies 
his face in his hands.) 

Wynne. But, Hook 

Madge (pulling Wynne's arm). Come, Kit dear ! 

(Wynne is staring wildly at the pair ; Hook looks up 
suddenly at Seaton.) 

Hook. Have you anything more to say ? 
Seaton (with an effort, slowly). No — nothing ! 

(Wynne slowly allows himself to be led off by Madge 
r.i.e.) 



Curtain. 



ACT III 

Scene. — Same as Act I. Morning-room at Barstone 
Grange. 

Time. — Three months later. 

The room is in darkness as the curtain rises, the French 
windows up stage l. being closed and the curtains 
drawn. The room has a somewhat forlorn appear- 
ance ; the ornaments, photos and trifles personal to 
the Kederbys have vanished, and only the bare fur- 
niture and pictures remain. An auctioneer s bill 
announcing sale is hanging over fireplace. 

(Rodd enters r.i.e., stumps across and pulls the cur- 
tains aside, letting in the morning sunshine ; he 
opens the window wide.) 

Rodd (looking round, giving his leg a contented 
smack). This is good, Rodd, my boy ! I never 
thought as W I should be back here. (Crossing 
over to fireplace and taking hold of bill.) The place 
sold, lock, stock and barrel not a month ago, and 'ere 
I am back again with the new proprietor. Gad ! 
you could have knocked me over with a feather. I 
looked as stoopid as a noo recruity when she sent for 
me and told me the noos ! (Tearing down the bill 
and putting it in fireplace, picking up poker.) Jove ! 
we're going to live once more ; live ! I feel that 
young and light-hearted, I'd like to be in front of the 
devils again ! (Lunging with poker.) There, there ! 

(Enter Miss Agatha r. She has in her hand a vase 
and a duster. Rodd suddenly stops.) 

72 



Act TIL] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLExMAN DO t" 73 

Miss A. Playing the fool again ! (With candle- 
sticks, puts them on table.) 

Rodd. Beg pardon, ma'am ! Mere exooberance 
of spirits ; I'm a boy at heart this morning. 

Miss A. You're in your second childhood ! (Go- 
ing to table.) This is the last room, isn't it ? (Picking 
up candlesticks off table and putting them on mantel- 
piece.) 

Rodd (coming to table) The very last, ma'am. 
The others are as bright and fresh as the day we left. 

Mrs. Swan 'as been working like the very dev 

(Stops himself as Miss Agatha stares at him), most 
conscientiously, ma'am. 

Miss A. Get the things that were brought up 
this morning. 

Rodd. Nothing could bring greater pleasure to 
my old 'eart ! 

Miss A. Do as you're told, and don't talk so much . 

(Rodd salutes and makes his exit jauntily r. Miss 
Agatha crosses with vase to piano l. She dusts 
the top briskly. Quayne enters through windows. 
He sees Miss Agatha, and comes down stage quickly 
with a smile.) 

Quayne. Good-morning, Miss Kederby ! Glad 
to see you back. You carried it through beautifully. 

Miss A. My solicitors bought it without giving 
any details ? 

Quayne (laughing). Yes. 

Miss A. Good ! Now about my brother ? (Com- 
ing from fire.) Is he straight now ? 

Quayne. Yes, I'm glad to say he is. With the 
money he got from the sale of the Grange he has 
cleared off all his liabilities, and doesn't owe a penny. 
Miss Madge, of course, is provided for. 

Miss A. Not badly, either. Thirty thousand a 
year ! 

Quayne (thoughtfully). But Sir Bruce would not 
trade on that ! 



74 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. 

Miss A. No — -he's a fool where money is concerned, 
but he's a Kederby all through. And I'm not sorry. 
He wouldn't have accepted the money even from me, 
so I had to get round him by playing this trick. 
(Gruffly.) Given me a lot of trouble. 

Quayne (looking at her thoughtfully). I think you 
rather like it. 

Miss A. (sharply). Like what ? 

Quayne. Oh, doing good by stealth, shall we say. 

Miss A. (angrily). Doing good ! Do you think 
I'm doing this for his sake ? 

Quayne. I shouldn't be surprised. 

Miss A. Then you're an idiot ! I never do good 
intentionally. (Putting candlesticks on mantelpiece.) 

Quayne. Still we all make mistakes sometimes. 
(Laughing.) You took Miss Banter into your confi- 
dence ? 

Miss A. Yes, I had to. I got her to insist that 
Bruce and Madge on leaving here should stay at 
Mr. Banter's house until things had got settled. 
That girl has got her head screwed on the right way. 

Quayne (aside). Neither of them beat about the 
bush much ! 

(Enter Rodd r. ; he has the Colonel's sword tucked 
under one arm, a large framed picture of Madge 
under the other, and in his hands a collection of photo 
frames and ornaments. He crosses to table. Miss 
Agatha comes down after Rodd has got to table.) 

Hullo, Rodd, glad to get back ? 

Rodd. Glad ain't the word, sir ; it's more de- 
lirium ! (Drops his collection of things on table, takes 
up the picture again, rubs the glass lovingly.) To 
think, sir, that in another few minutes, she 'erself 

Miss A. Don't splutter, man ! Get on ! (Crosses 
to piano with vase.) 

Rodd (shaking his head at Quayne with a knowing 
smile, in a whisper). Ain't she just a treat, sir? 



Act III.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" 75 

(Quayne down stage glances at watch / Dolly enters 
through window. She has a basket full of fresh cut 
flowers ; she conies down stage to table quickly.) 

Dolly. Hullo, Mr. Quayne ; goin' strong ? We're 
havin' great games this morning. You're in the 
know, aren't you ? 

Quayne. Yes, quite " in the know." 
Dolly. We're simply chock full of work. (Point- 
ing to piano.) Here, get me that vase, there's a good 
sort. 

(He obeys with a smile.) 

Miss A. (regarding Rodd's work). Do you call 

that straight, you (Pushing Rodd.) 

Rodd (eagerly). Say it, ma'am ; it'll do me good. 

(Miss Agatha turns away.) 

Lord, she was cut out for a drill sergeant ! (Puts 
picture straight.) 

Dolly (putting flowers in vase). Not an awful 
good hand at this sort of thing, you know ; but still, 
how's that ? (Holds up vase for inspection.) 

Quayne. It's the work of a great artist. 

Dolly. Pickles ! Just drop it on the piano again 
for me, will you ? 

(He does so.) 

Miss A, (to Rodd, who is gazing in rapt admiration 
at his handiwork) . Rodd ! 

(He starts, turns round and salutes hurriedly.) 

Don't stand there like a bran-filled dummy ! Put 
the sword up. (Goes to piano) 

Rodd (hurries down stage, gets sword and returns ; 
looks at Miss Agatha in admiration) . What a splen- 
did mother of soldiers she'd have made. (Takes 
sword from its sheath, kisses its blade lovingly, salutes 
with it, then proceeds to put it in its place over the 
picture.) 



76 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. 

Dolly (to Quayne). Did you forward that letter 
I sent you ? 

Quayne. I did. (To Miss Agatha.) I must be 
going now, Miss Kederby. I'll look in again later, 
when Sir Bruce is here. 

Miss A. Yes, you may be able to explain things 
better to him ; he might feel grateful towards me, 
and I couldn't stand that. 

Quayne (laughing). Very well. Au revoir, Miss 
Banter. 

Dolly. So long ! 

(Exit Quayne l.2.e.) 

Miss A. Now, Rodd, get along to the smoking- 
room, and put the Colonel's things there all ready 
for him. Sharp ! 

Rodd (marching towards r.i.e.). Sharp's the word, 
ma'am. (Chuckling, aside.) I'm a babby in 'er 
hands, reg'lar babby ; but I like it. I know I shall 
forget myself and call her Lizzie. 

(Exit.) 

Miss A. (dusting a photograph and putting it in 
position). There is no mistake about their coming ? 
Sir Bruce got the letter from my solicitors this morn- 
ing ? 

Dolly (laughing). Yes, it was all beautifully 
mysterious. He read it out to us at breakfast. At 
first Madge wasn't coming, but I made her promise, 
then slipped away, saying I wanted to see a pal about 
something. (Putting vases on mantelpiece.) 

Miss A. A pal ? You mean me ! 

Dolly (busy putting flowers about room). Yes, I 
reckon you as a pal ! You see, you took me into 
your confidence. (Turning round.) Do you know 
I've got quite to like you. 

Miss A. (sitting to table, smiling grimly). And do 
you know that I once remarked that you were as 
elegant as a fishwife. 



Act III.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 77 

Dolly (smiling). It don't matter. I know my 
style's bad, but it's my own. (Going to mantelpiece 
with vase.) What has happened, then ; have you 
hedged a bit on your opinion ? 

Miss A. Not about the style. But I wanted 
some one with sense, with no sentimental nonsense 
about her. 

Dolly (coming down, crossing to piano, thoughtfully, 
aside). No sentimental nonsense ! (Turning with a 
laugh to Miss A.) Well, I'm glad you thought of 
me for the job. It has been awfully entertaining. 
(Putting the last photo up.) Oh, by the way, you 
remember the one bargain I made ? 

Miss A. You said I was to invite that curious 
Hook person here. I left it in your hands ; did you 
find out where he is ? 

Dolly. Yes ; I sent a letter through Mr. Quayne, 
asking him to come. 

Miss A. (glancing at her sharply). I'm not in- 
quisitive, but — why should you particularly want 
him to come here ? 

Dolly (putting photo on piano). You remember 
what I told you about what I heard that night from 
the billiard room ? 

Miss A. I have forgotten. He did something 
rather melodramatic, didn't he ? But even if he did, 
was it necessary for me to have him here in person ? 

Dolly. Yes, very necessary. It's a question of 
fair play. (Going to piano.) 

Miss A. (glancing at her sharply). Yes, of course, 
fair play, and nothing else. And how are you going 
to see this effected ? 

Dolly. You must wait and see. (Facing Miss 
Agatha, impulsively.) He's a bit rough, but he 
isn't a wrong 'un, really. Give each horse, a fair 
chance, you know ; that's my motto, and I think 
it's yours too. That's why I stuck out for having 
him down. (Dusting chair l.) 

Miss A. (rising). I think I shall learn a new Ian- 



78 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. 

guage if I'm much longer with you. (Crossing r.i.e., 
turning round at door.) I didn't tell you, but as a 
matter of fact, I wanted to see this Hook man myself. 
That's why I agreed to his coming here. 

Dolly. You ? 
„ Miss A. Yes, and there's just one other I want 
to see — that scamp of a boy, Ronald. (Opening door.) 
I suppose I must get ready to receive that idiot 
brother of mine. 

(Exit.) 

■ Dolly (shaking her head). What's up with Ron- 
nie ? (Cross r., front of table to top.) Oh, I don't 
catch on, not a little bit. (Sits on edge of table, re- 
flectively.) Yes, I'm glad I found out what I did 
that night. (Arranging the flowers in vase.) He's 
real good is Dickie, and I'm not going to let Madge 
go on thinking he is the blackguard he made himself 
out to be. If Kit isn't man enough to tell her, I will. 
(Getting off table, going up stage to windows.) Yes, if 
I had not known, perhaps in time Dickie would — 
no, I've no sentimental nonsense about me. I'm a 
sportsman, and Dickie's goin' to have a fair run for 
his happiness, whether he likes it or not. (Picks up 
jug and basket.) 

(Exit through window) 

(Enter Rodd l.2.e., holding door open with air of 
mysterious importance . Enter Colonel and Madge . ) 

Rodd. This way, Sir Bruce. 

Colonel. What on earth are you doing here, 
Rodd ? (Top of table c.) I thought we had settled 
you were to be lodge keeper at the Park ? 

Rodd. Couldn't tear myself away from the old 
place, sir. New owner insisted I should come too ! 
Would take absolutely no denial, sir. 

Colonel (to Madge). That mysterious new 
owner again ! (To Rodd.) Can't you enlighten us, 
Rodd? 



Act III.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 71) 

Rodd (saluting). First time I ever disobeyed 
your wish, sir ; but sacred word of honour, you know, 
sir. 

(Cross R. above table.) 

Colonel (with a shrug, seating himself at table). 
We must be patient then. 

Rodd (stumping excitedly to r.i.e.). I will an- 
nounce your arrival, sir. The new owner won't be 
a moment. (Opening door.) The new owner ! Ha ! 
ha ! I must see his face ! 

(Exit.) . 

(The Colonel is sitting at the table with his head resting 

on his arm, staring straight in front of him. Madge 

glances round the room uneasily, then looks at him. 

She steps lightly round to him and puts her hand on 

his shoulder.) 

Madge. I know it's very hard, father dear ! 

Colonel. Yes, it's pretty rough coming back as 
a casual visitor. (Sighing.) Still, if one does make 
a mess of things ! 

Madge. You didn't ! It was only a misfortune ! 
No one could foresee that the company would be a 
failure. It does not matter so much to me, dear, 
only I am so sorry for you ! 

Colonel (looking at her with a smile). Brave 
little Madge ! (Kisses her.) There, we mustn't 
quarrel with what had to be. (Rising, twisting his 
moustache.) The Kederbys never did that. (Turn 1 
ing round and surveying the room.) Still, I wonder 
what all this humbug means about keeping the real 
purchaser's name a secret. (Turn down l.) Don't 
see through it myself. 

Madge (wanders up to fireplace). Look, father, 
your sword ! 

Colonel (going up to her). Your picture, too ! 

Madge. And the photographs, the things the 
Banters stored for us in their lumber room. 
(They turn and face one another in bewildered fashion.) 



80 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" [Act III. 

Colonel. Well, the mystery's getting a trifle 
ludicrous, isn't it ? 

(Rodd enters r.i.e., holding door open.) 

Rodd. The new owner, sir ! 

(Miss Agatha enters. Rodd shuts the door, and 
hastily turns to survey the Colonel's and Madge's 
astonishment. He rubs his hands in glee.) 

Madge. Aunt Agatha ! (In amazement.) 

Colonel (shrugging his shoulders, coming down 
L.C.). Oh, I give it up ! 

Rodd (excitedly'). It's right enough, Sir Bruce ! 
After all, the old 'ome ! 

Miss A. (r. of table). Rodd, leave the room ! 

Rodd (crestfallen, opening door). Sarvesme right ! 
sarves me right ! 

(Exit.) 

Miss A. Now, Bruce, I hate long-winded explana- 
tions, so here it is all in a nutshell. I bought the 
Grange because I didn't fancy its falling into some 
jam-maker's hands. 

Madge (l.c.). But we thought you had lost most 
of your money in speculation — like father. 

Miss A. (r. of table). Bruce, was I ever so silly as 
you ? 

Colonel (l. of table). Never, Agatha, never ! 
Still, you gave us the impression of being poor — an 
independent old woman with a few hundreds a year — 
something like that, wasn't it ? 

Miss A. Probably. I came here because I heard 
you were heavily hit financially. I knew you wouldn't 
accept money from me, so thought of this way of 
doing things. (Hastily.) Not from any idea of 
helping you, only I didn't want to see the name in 
the mud — understand ? 

Colonel. Oh, fully. (Crosses l.) 

(Madge up l.c.) 



Act III.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 81 

Miss A. Very well, will you come and live here 
with me then ? Take up your old position. 

Colonel. But the house will be yours ! (Down 

L.) 

Miss A. Yes ; but you're to be the master ! I 
couldn't bear a male Kederby taking a back seat ! 
(Turning away.) There, now you know all about it 
— yes or no ? 

Madge (going to her). It's splendid of you, aunt. 

Miss A. Don't be superfluous ! 

Colonel (l.c). Hang it all, Agatha, I must say 
something ! It is generous of you, one of the things 
only met with once in a lifetime. 

Miss A. Yes or no, Bruce ? 

Colonel (with a shrug). Of course, yes. 

Miss A. Then go into your study. There are 
some papers waiting for you to sign. The sooner we 
get these bothering little things over, the sooner we 
can resume our normal position. 

Colonel (hurriedly to r.i.e.). Oh, a normal 
position is everything ! I hardly know whether I'm 
on my head or my heels ! (Opens door.) 

(Exit r.i.e.) 

Madge (crossing r.c. to Miss Agatha, touching her 
on the arm). Aunt ! 

Miss A. (turning round sharply). Well ? 

Madge. Do let me thank you. You don't know 
how happy you have made me. 

Miss A. Why ? You will soon be leaving here ! 

Madge. It nearly broke father's heart to give 
up the Grange ; he was so brave, he did not show it, 
but I knew ! I love him so much, and — now I love 
you ! You'll let me, won't you ? 

(Gently yet half fearfully she puts her arm round Miss 
Agatha's neck. There is a pause, then Miss Aga- 
tha suddenly bends and kisses her lightly. She 
draws back at once, and releases herself fr cm Madge's 
embrace.) 



82 "WHAT WOULD A • GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. 

Miss A. (gruffly). That's not to become a habit, 
mind ! 

(Exit.) 

Madge (r.c, laughing). The old dear ! (Taking 
off hat at fireplace, crossing to table, picking up photo.) 
It was the one thing wanting to complete my happi- 
ness. (Taking off hat.) Oh, it is lovely to be back 
home again. 

(Enter Dolly through window quickly ; Madge turns, 
puts hat on chair.) 

Dolly. Hullo, Madge ! 

Madge. Dolly ! [Running forward and taking her 
hands.) Why, you must have known all along ! 
(Crosses above table.) 

Dolly (goes below table, laughing). Yes, the old 
lady put me in the know and we worked it together. 
I tell you what, Madge, your aunt is a first-class sort, 
although she does hit out straight from the shoulder. 

Madge. I can hardly believe it all yet ! (Going 
to piano.) 

(They wander down stage together ; Dolly picks a 
flower out of vase on table, and fingers it reflectively. 
Madge looks at Kit's photo.) 

Dolly. Any news of Kit ? 

Madge (smiling). Yes, at last I've had a letter; 
he hopes to be back to-morrow. It was too bad to 
become engaged, then immediately for him to be 
called away to Paris to attend to that bothering 
French property his uncle left him. Still, it's over 
now, and I shall have him all to myself. 

Dolly (plucking the flower to bits slowly). Yes, it 
will be good. Still, you heard almost every day from 
him, I suppose. 

Madge. No, hardly at all. He's a most shocking 
correspondent, even to me. (Laughing.) I shall 
take him to task about it. 



Act HI.] 'WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO?" 83 

(Dolly turns and walks up stage towards window.) 
It will be nice to be back here again when he comes. 

(She crosses to piano l., and sings a short love song.) 
(Dolly up stage has turned and is watching her hesi- 
tatingly, with one hand on the curtain. Suddenly as 
if she has made up her mind, she takes a step to go 
down to her. She is on the R. side of windows. She 
draws back as a shadow falls across the path outside. 
The next moment Wynne appears at window ; he 
sees Madge at once, and does not notice Dolly, who 
has drawn back still further and hides behind curtain. 
He looks pale and worried ; he steps into the room 
noiselessly, and pauses a moment, then bracing his 
shoulders with an effort, goes down stage. Dolly, 
who has been watching his face, slips quietly away 
through window. Wynne pauses on the right side 
of table. Madge turns, sees him, comes towards him 
with a glad cry of " Kit " ; something in his face 
impels her to stop ; they face each other, the table between 
them.) 

Madge. I say, Dolly ! Kit ! 

Wynne (speaking in a low, restrained voice). I 
heard you were here again, and came on at once. 
(He turns and faces her with an effort.) I 

Madge (stretching out her hands). It's delightful, 

Kit, to have you a day sooner. I've been (She 

lays her hand on the front of his coat.) 

(He pushes her gently from him and turns away. She 
sinks into chair L. side of table, watching him won- 
der in gly.) 

Wynne. You mustn't touch me ! (Pause, then 
bursting out.) Madge, I'm going to hurt you. It's 
better to be done now, it ought to have been done 
before, only I've been such a coward. 

Madge. Kit ! What's happened ? 

Wynne (dropping into chair r. side of table, covering 
his face in his hands). I'm not worthy of you, not 



84 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO?" [Act III. 

the man you thought me. (Pause, speaking between 
his teeth.) You remember the night that man Seaton 
told you of his partner's treachery, had his revenge 
on Hook before us all ? 

Madge. Yes, yes ? 

Wynne. Hook wasn't the man ; he took it upon 
himself, because he wished to spare you. 

Madge. To spare me ! Why ? 

Wynne. To spare you ; can't you guess ? 

Madge (taking a step towards him, looking at him 
searchingly.) No, Kit, it was not — don't say it was ! 

(Wynne bows his head. Madge sinks back into her 
seat with a sob.) 

Wynne. The thing came so suddenly, I hardly 
had time to think ! I was so certain Seaton was 
going to revenge himself on me ; then, when Hook 
stepped in with the lie, took it on his shoulders, and 
Seaton, for some reason, out of pity for you, perhaps, 
did not speak, I somehow — oh, I know it's no excuse — 
but the thought of losing you unmanned me. I 
knew you would turn from me. 

Madge (sits l. of table, speaking in a low voice). 
You were the man who stole the girl's love from your 
friend, made a plaything of her, then deserted her ! 

Wynne. She did not love him — never did, but 
he did not know. The moment Seaton left to go up 
country, I — oh, there is no use telling the miserable 
story. There is more reason now, God knows, that 
you should believe his story rather than mine. (Walks 
across to l.) Directly I had let Seaton go that night 
without speaking, I felt what a coward I'd been. I 
had let another man sacrifice his honour to save 
mine. Every day since has been a torture ! I could 
not write to you ; every time I took up my pen 
something seemed to whisper to me — Coward, coward, 
coward ! There was only one end ! (Turning up 
stage.) 



Acrr III.] 'WHAT WOULD A (JENTLEMAN DO?" 85 

Madge (repeating words mechanically). Only one 
end ? 

Wynne. This : to make a clean breast of it. 
Madge, to have killed your love like this means more 
to me than you can guess — more than you can ever 
know. There is only one thing to atone. To go 
away. I shall see your father now and tell him 
everything — then leave for good. 

Madge (rising). It's all so sudden ; I can't grasp 
it all yet. 

Wynne. You must try and forget ; that's all 
that can be done. 

(A voice is heard off l., then door L.2.E. opens an inch 
or so.) 

Ronnie (off). Rodd, hurry up ; I want to see 
the governor. (Door shut again.) 

Madge (moving towards r., below table). Ronnie 
here ? I can't see him now ! 

Wynne. Good-bye, all I can hope is that one 
day you may forget. 

Madge (looking at him, then turning away with a 
sob). And I was so happy ! Oh, Kit, Kit ! 

(Exit.) 

(Wynne shuts door and crosses c. as Ronnie enters 
hurriedly L.2.E.) 

Ronnie. Hullo, Kit, old chap ! So you've got 
back ? (Shaking hands.) 

Wynne (turning away). Yes, I've got back. 

Ronnie. Suppose you've heard the news about 
Aunt Agatha — how after all she's a regular Croesus ? 
She wired me to come this morning. Where is she, 
and the governor, and Madge ? 

Wynne. I saw Sir Bruce and Miss Kederby in 
the study as I passed. Madge — has just left here. 
(Crosses r.i.e.) 

Ronnie (not noticing Wynne's restrained voice, 
rattling on). Well, I'd better run and see the old 



86 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. 

folks first ; will come back in a minute or so, old 
chap ! 

{Exit r.i.e. at a run.) 

(Wynne stands c. with folded arms, his brow knitted 
in thought. Dolly appears at window, sees him, 
comes down stage quietly. Wynne unfolds his arms, 
draws a deep breath, turns round and sees Dolly ; 
she comes to him, looking at his face intently.) 

D.olly. You've done it, Kit ? (He starts.) Oh, 
it's no good beating about the bush. I know about 
the Seaton affair. You didn't play the game that 
night, Kit Wynne ; but now 

Wynne. Yes, I've told her. It means giving her 
up, but I've told her — and I'm glad. 

Dolly. I'm rather glad, too. (Comes down L.) 
I didn't fancy having to do the job myself. 

Wynne. You would have done it ? Why ? 

Dolly. Because I like to see the game played 
square. Because there was another man — as good 
as yourself, Kit. 

Wynne. Better ! better ! 

Dolly. Better then, and he was done out of his 
chance. 

Wynne (coming down l.). I'm not asking with 
any thought of myself, mind ; I know I've put myself 
out of the running, but — is he to have it now ? 

(Door opens L.i.R. Rodd's voice heard. Wynne 
starts and looks at Dolly.) 

Rodd. This way, Mr. Hook. 
Dolly. Yes, he is. Remember, he deserves it. 
Play the man, Kit. 

(Rodd enters, followed by Hook. Wynne turns and 
walks r. Dolly goes to meet Hook. Rodd crosses 
stage and exits r.i.e.) 

Dolly. Hullo, Dickie ! How are you, old chap ? 



Act III.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ! " 87 

Hook (cheerily). Hullo, Dolly ! (Pauses in the 
act of shaking hands.) I suppose you are on shaking 
terms with me ? 

Dolly. Of course, else I shouldn't have sent for 
you. What have you been doing with yourself all 
this while ? 

Hook. Oh, town and fun — fun all the way. (Sees 
Wynne, aside.) Wynne ! 

Wynne (turns and crosses half way, holds out his 
hand). Are you on shaking terms with me ? 

Hook (shoots a quick glance at Dolly). Why, 
certainly, Sir Christopher, if you'll do me the honour. 

Wynne. It is you who do me the honour. 

Hook (pretending to mistake his meaning, shaking 
hands warmly). I am getting on with the aristocracy, 
ain't I, what ! 

Dolly (comes down l. ; after looking at Wynne 
she touches Hook on the arm). Dickie, when you 
left the Grange that night, well, things looked rather 
up against you, didn't they? 

Hook (looks significantly at Wynne). Yes, very 
clumsy of me, you know ; still, couldn't help it — I 
was found out ! 

Dolly (quickly). Yes, you were found out, Dickie ! 

(Hook turns to her with a start.) 

Wynne (facing him bravely). Hook, I've told 
Madge everything. 

Hook. What was the good of my trying to help 
you ? Heaven helps those who help themselves, but 
who can help the man who gives the helper away ? 

Wynne. It had to be done ! (Taking hat off 
table.) I'm going away now — right away — do you 
understand ? I shan't be happy, but I shall feel 
better, knowing I have put you right with her. It 
must have been pretty hard for you all this time, to 
know she thought you were the man. 

Hook (with affected airiness). Didn't worry me 



88 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. 

—haven't given it a thought— I didn't, really. 
(Down l.) 

Wynne (cross to Hook). You are the most gener- 
ous man I have ever met ! 

(Dolly crosses to fireplace.) 
But it's your turn now — you deserve it. (With an 
effort, holding out his hand.) I wish you good luck ! 
You see, I understand — good luck ! 

(The two men shake hands, then Wynne turns and 
walks slowly towards the windows. Hook stares 
after him, dumbfounded. As Wynne passes through 
the windows, he makes a start as if to go after him. 
Dolly lays a restraining hand on him.) 

Hook (calling). Here, Wynne, look here 

Dolly (sits r. of table). Let him go, Dickie. He's 
right — it's his turn to go. 

(Hook sinks down into a chair by the table and runs 
his finger round inside his collar.) 

Hook. Phew ! If I'd known it was going to let 
me in for more scenes, I wouldn't have come. So 
I've got to thank you for this, have I ? You write 
and tell me that old Miss Kederby has bought the 
place now and would like to see me. I wouldn't 
have minded meeting even her ; but all the rest, and 
more scenes. It wasn't quite the thing — with a pal ? 

Dolly. If Kit hadn't told her, I was going to 
tell her myself ! I knew all the time ! 

Hook (rising, with a sigh). Oh, woman, woman ! 
(Down l., turning suddenly on her.) What have you 
done it for, eh ? 

Dolly (rises and goes to Hook). Because I know 
you love her — because, despite all your talk of having 
fun all the way, you've been as miserable in London 
as a man jolly well can be. 

Hook. You should have seen me at the Empire 
two nights ago ! (Seriously.) Has she given, him 
up ? 



Act III.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 89 

Dolly (moves back to table). You heard what he 
said ; he is going away — right away, there's a clear r< 
field for you. Go in, old man, and win. 

Hook (thought fully). A clear field ! 

Dolly. Yes, with the odds all on you. You see, 
I don't understand love myself ; it's out of my line. 

Hook. Yes, quite out of your line ! (Cross l.) 

Dolly (moving towards r.). But a good many 
seem to think it's the only prize worth drawing. 
You're one of 'em, Dickie, so now you've got your 
chance, do your level best. 

Hook (raising his voice). Jove, yes, I'll do my 
level best ! (Moving up l.) 

Dolly (pausing at door, turning round for a moment). 
And when you're happy, Dickie, you won't forget 
the pal who brought you to it. I'm off to find Madge. 
So long, and good luck ! 

(Exit R.I.E.) 

Hook (cross above table r.c). Forget you, Dolly, 
not me ! You've been a pal all the way. (Looking 
R., with a smile.) Your chance now ! (Stands for a 
moment, then shakes his head.) No, thank you ; no, 
Dickie, my boy ! You w r ere blinded once, not again, 
not while I'm looking, anyhow. 

(Enter Miss Agatha r.i.e., followed by Rodd.) 

Miss A. (to Rodd). Tell Mr. Ronald I want him 
here ! 

Rodd. With pleasure, ma'am— with pleasure ! 

{Exit.) 

Miss A. (crossing c, sits L. of table). How d'ye do ? 

Hook (turning to her). Ah, good-morning. I 
trust I find you in good health ! (Coming down l.) 

Miss A. (sitting down and contemplating him). I 
am always in good health ; I was brought up properly. 

Hook. Ah, there's a lot in that. Give a child 
fresh air, good diet, plenty of stick (Stopping 



90 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. 

suddenly, nervously.) We've been having some nice 
weather lately ! 

Miss A. Have you any idea why I sent for you ? 

Hook. Not in the least ! Oh, perhaps 

Miss A. No, I did not want to be entertained. I 
don't motor, and I haven't read The Morals of 
Cynthia. 

Hook (aside). I thought she wouldn't forget to 
rub that in ! (To Miss Agatha, with laborious 
politeness.) Well, perhaps you will tell me. 

Miss A. I wished to say that, until quite recently, 
I did not fully understand all the ramifications of 
your connexion with our family. 

Hook (helplessly). No ; I don't know what you 
are talking about. (To Miss Agatha, shaking his 
head.) No good, ma'am. I simply don't — that's all. 

(Enter Ronnie quickly r.i.e. He starts at seeing 
Hook.) 

Ronnie (r.c). Hook ! 

Hook. Yes, but I don't think you ought to be 
here ! I'm being interviewed about some " rami- 
fications." 

Miss A. It's quite right. My nephew is the 
ramification. 

Hook. Well, I've never noticed that before. 
How are you ? (Crossing to Ronnie, catches him by 
the arm.) Tell me, what is it ? (Lowering his voice.) 
Surely not the ? 

Ronnie (hurriedly). I couldn't help it ; she over- 
heard me sajdng something about it to Madge the 
day after you left. (Goes up r.) 

Miss A. (loudly). I have learnt without much 
surprise, it is true, that my nephew has been foolish 
enough to lose a considerable sum through gambling. 
I understand that you were foolish enough to lend 
him the money to pay his debts. 

Hook. We none of us can help being stupid, 
ma'am. 



Act III.] WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 91 

(Miss Agatha rises and walks round to desk.) 

(To Ronnie.) I trusted you to keep it dark. 

Ronnie (aside to Hook). What could I do ? She 
absolutely insisted. 

(Miss Agatha has risen and crossed to desk r. ; she 

opens her cheque book, and tears out a cheque already 

filled in. She turns round in her seat and looks at 

Hook.) 

Miss A. I wasn't about at the time, but now — 
you understand it would be pleasanter to keep a 
thing like this in the family. (Holds cheque out.) 

Hook (to Ronnie). You, you idiot! (To Miss 
Agatha.) I've learnt it's beastly bad form to talk 
about your own money ; but it was nothing to me — 
it was a gift. 

Miss A. Take it ! 

Ronnie. Yes, take it, Hook ! (To Miss Agatha.) 
It's awfully generous of you, aunt ! I don't know 
how to thank you sufficiently. 

Miss A. There's no call for gratitude ! You've 
got to pay every penny of it back, and very probably 
interest at five per cent. too. 

(Ronnie turns away with a shrug.) 

Don't waste my time, please. 

Hook (taking it reluctantly, gazing at it). I suppose 
I must. 

Miss A. Of course ! Whatever else I may be, 
I'm a business woman ! 

Hook (crossing to her, points to cheque). Er — well 
— then you might sign it. 

(Miss Agatha looks at it sharply, then almost snatches 
it away from Hook and signs it quickly. Ronnie 
goes into a fit of suppressed laughter.) 

(Aside to Ronnie.) I think I got her there, what ! 
Miss A. (returning cheque to Hook). I had made 



92 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. 

it out previously and did not wish to leave it about 
signed. You will find it correct now. 

Hook (cramming it carelessly into pocket, cheerily). 
Oh, I daresay, I daresay ! 

Miss A. (rising and coming down r.). All that 
remains now is to thank you for the interest you 
have been good enough to take in our family, and 

Hook. Wish me " good-morning," I suppose. 

Miss A. No, ask you to stay to lunch. (Holding 
out her hand.) Will you ? 

Hook (grasping it, surprised). Delighted, abso- 
lutely delighted. 

Miss A. You will excuse me entertaining you 
for a few minutes. 

Hook. She's at it again ! 

Miss A. You'll find people about the house and 
garden ! If you don't say anything silly to them, 
they'll say something silly to you ! 

(Exit R.I.E.) 

Hook (looking after her). What a philosopher ! 
(Sits front of table.) 

Ronnie (goes to Hook, laughing). She's a brick 
in her own way. Hook, she must have taken a fancy 

to you to invite you to lunch. It's funny after 

(He stops suddenly and glances at Hook in a confused 
manner. Crosses R.) 

Hook (quietly). Say it out ! You wonder that 
she should do so after what occurred that night ? 
Isn't that so ? 

Ronnie (confused). Well, I — that is 

(Hook is smiling.) 

Why, what is it ; was there some mistake after all ? 

Hook. Yes, there was some — misunderstanding. 
I fancy your aunt must have guessed it, that's all ! 
(Turns and walks up stage towards window.) 

Ronnie (following him). By Jove, I'm glad ! I 
never really thought it of you, Hook. The man and 



Act 111. J -WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO?" \)3 

the thing didn't go together, somehow. Won't you 
tell me about it ? 

Hook. No, not that. You see, it's not quite all 
mine to tell. What do you say to a stroll in the 
garden ? 

Ronnie. Right ! 

(He links his arm within Hook's, and the two are 
just about to step through the windows when Dolly 
and Madge enter r.i.e. Dolly has her arm affec- 
tionately round Madge.) 

Dolly. I thought it best to rout you out, Madge I 

(Hook turns and sees Madge. Looking up stage he 
disengages his arm.) 

Hook (aside to Ronnie). We'll take that stroll 
by and bye, Ronnie. 

(Madge and Dolly see the others. Madge gives a 
little start.) 

Dolly (going up stage quickly to Ronnie). Say, 
Ronnie, your aunt tells me she has bought a new gee 
for the Colonel. Take me round the stable, there's 
a good boy ! 

Ronnie. Why, of course, come along 1 
(Dolly looks at Hook and Madge laughingly.) 
(Ronnie makes his exit through windows.) 

(Madge walks slowly c. Dolly pauses at window, 
Hook is near her.) 

Dolly (aside to Hook). Now's your chance, 
Dickie ! Level best, remember ! 

Hook. Aye, aye ! Level best ! (He turns down 
stage.) 

(Dolly gives one last glance, then with a shrug makes 
her exit.) 

(Hook comes slowly down stage. Madge turns, and 
they face one another. There is a pause.) 



94 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" [Act III. 

Hook (putting hand to his head nervously) . Charm- 
ing weather for this time of year 

(Madge puts out her hand impulsively ; he breaks off 
suddenly and shakes it warmly.) 

Ah, that's good, that's good ! 

Madge (half whisperingly). I might have known 
you would never have done a thing like that ! (Turn- 
ing away sorrowfully.) You wanted to let me keep 
my happiness, and acted nobly ; I can only thank 
you — thank you very much. 

Hook (jerkily). I wish you wouldn't ; I somehow 
don't seem to care much for thanks just now. 

Madge (seating herself at table, speaking with her 
head turned away from Hook). You know — he told 
me himself — this morning. 

Hook. Yes, remember that ; it's a great thing. 
(Significantly.) He told you himself. 

Madge (speaking in mechanical tones). And you 
have come back — you, who have done so much to 
prove your love ! 

Hook (taking a step forward ; her back is towards 
him). You must not think of that, little lady! 
That belongs to the past ; it is all done with. I 
know now what I'm fit for, and it isn't to be your 
husband. 

Madge (turning away, with a sob). And he is 
going away — he said so ! (Going up r. to armchair.) 

Hook. Yes, that's what he ought to do — atone 
for his fault like a man. But you — what are you 
going to do ? 

(Madge does not answer ; she is sobbing.) 

I'm only a rough card, but I want to see you happy. 
I knew it would come to this some time or other, 
and that's why I came down. I knew, and I haven't 
been idle all this time in London— regular busy I've 
been, one way and another. 
Madge (looking up). Busy ? 



Act III.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" 95 

Hook (r. of table). After that night we talked a 
lot about Seaton's affair, and presently I sent a cable 
or two, and got answers. 

Madge. What did you discover ? 

Hook. The girl wasn't worth it ! She was only 
playing with Seaton ; she never loved him, could 
never love any one. 

Madge. But does Mr. Seaton know this ? 

Hook. He does now, and asked me to tell you. 

Madge. If I only knew what to do ! 

Hook. Do as your heart tells you to. 

Madge. Ah, if I only knew what was right ! 

{Exit through windows, then r.) 

Hook (looking after her). Another minute's con- 
versation, and it will be all right. 

{Enter Dolly behind him ; touches him on the arm.) 

Dolly. How's it going, Dickie ? 

Hook (turning round, pause, then shaking her sud- 
denly by the hand). Splendid, I think ! Result not 
yet out ! 

(Exit after Madge.) 

Dolly (entering room with a shrug). Well, he 
deserves his win if any man does. 

(Enter Colonel and Miss Agatha r.i.e.) 

Miss A. That's enough of it, Bruce ! If you did 
find your favourite brand of cigar in the smoking 
room, what then ? Any one would think I had put 
them there to please you. 

Dolly (laughing). So she did, Sir Bruce ! Those 
cigars cost her no end of trouble to get, but she was 
dead set on 'em. 

(Enter Ronnie.) 

Colonel (laughing). A woman who can buy a 
man's cigars satisfactorily is a woman in a thousand ! 



96 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. 

My dear Agatha, you have once more proved your 
sterling worth. 

Miss A. Bruce, your conversation is approaching 
the nauseating ! 

Ronnie (to Colonel). I say, dad, have you seen 
the gee Aunt Agatha has got you in place of Min- 
strel ? He's a regular ripper. 

Colonel (to Miss Agatha, much gratified). What, 
more surprises, Agatha ? Really there is no end to 
your 

Miss A. If you wish to bore me to death, Bruce, 
say so. (Sits on sofa.) 

(Enter Wynne quickly through windows ; he comes to 
a halt, and hesitates when he sees the others.) 

Colonel. Why, Kit, I did not know you had 
returned. 

Wynne. Yes, I got back this morning. 
Colonel, (shaking hands with him). Delighted to 
have you with us again, dear boy ! 

Wynne (crossing to Miss Agatha, awkwardly). 
How do you do, Miss Kederby ? 

Miss A. I enjoy the best of health, thank you. 
(Crosses c.) 

Ronnie. I say, dad, you really must see the gee ! 
(Taking hold of his arm.) He's a beauty. Come 
along, Dolly. 

Dolly. Rather ; you can't bore me with a horse. 

(Exit with Ronnie.) 

Colonel. I think I must go. But you must 
come too, Agatha ! I insist ! 

Miss A. Very well ; but mind, I vanish on hearing 
a single word of thanks ! (Follows Colonel.) 

Colonel. My dear Agatha, I promise to be un- 
gratefulness itself ! (Offers his arm to Miss Agatha ; 
looks round at Wynne.) Won't you come, Kit ? 

Wynne. No, thanks, I — I rather want to have a 
word alone with you later ; I'll wait in the library. 



Act III.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" 97 

Colonel. Oh, very well ! I'll return presently. 

{Exit with Miss Agatha.) 

(Hook appears on path up stage ; looks off l., then to 
Wynne. Enters room.) 

Hook. Hi, Sir Christopher ! (Coming down l.c.) 

Wynne (pausing with hand on door). Yes ? 

Hook. Like to say a word to you — congratula- 
tions ! 

Wynne. You've got what you deserve. (Crosses 
c.) 

Hook. Well, not yet ; but I've just had a talk 
with the little lady, by the fountain. You know the 
fountain ; nice pretty old fountain, isn't it ? 

Wynne (a). Yes. It was there, Hook, I first 
told her that I loved her. 

Hook (l.c). Wouldn't it be rather a good idea 
if you were to tell her so again — there ? 

Wynne (starting). What do you mean, Hook ? 

Hook. It just occurred to me, you know. I'm 
thundering good at ideas. (Changing his tone, catch- 
ing hold of Wynne's hand.) Look here, we've straight- 
ened the skein a bit ! She still loves you. 

Wynne (a). Still loves me ! After 

Hook. Yes ; wonderful, ain't it ? But that's 
how a woman's built. (Leading him towards window.) 
She still loves you, and that's all there is to it ! (Goes 
up l.c.) So get along right away. 

Wynne (turning). But you (Follows him up.) 

Hook. Oh, that was a long time ago. I'm all 
right ; just you wait and see. She's there, I tell you, 
and by the fountain. Go on, what are you waiting 
here for ? 

Wynne (at windows). By Jove, you're a brick ! 
(Turns round and grasps Hook's hand impulsively.) 
(Exit.) 

Hook (looks off r., after him). Well, that's all 
gay ! (Coming down.) 



98 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " LAct III. 

(Miss Agatha comes along the path l. Hook swings 
round, and they face one another) 

Miss A. And what's " all gay " ? 

Hook. Kit and Madge are together again. 

Miss A. (up l.c., entering room). Of course ! 
What a pack of sentimental fools you all are, with 
heroic notions of giving up things for each other's 
sakes. Thank Heaven I'm not sentimental. 

Hook. No, she ain't. 

Miss A. (turns and goes back to windows ; looks at 
Hook). What are you going to do ? 

Hook. That's funny, everybody's asking me that. 

Miss A. (looking off path l.). Here's my pal again. 
(Looks at Hook as if with sudden inspiration.) I've 
an idea. Get into that chair there. 

Hook. Not me ; I had enough of that chair once 
before. 

Miss A. Do as I tell you, else 

Hook. Well, what ? 

Miss A. No lunch ! Quick ! 

Hook. That settles it. (Goes to chair.) I'm in 
it again. 

(Enter Dolly quickly.) 

Miss A. (at chair l. of table). Well, how has your 
precious scheme worked out ? 

Dolly (l.c, sitting at piano). Oh, Kit Wynne 
played the man — told her and has given her up. 
Quite the right thing ; he is going clean away. 

Miss A. (with a sniff). Oh, is he ? (Giving glance 
at chair.) And this Hook, this utter creature, is to 
be transformed into a tinsel imitation hero and carry 
all before him with flying colours. 

Dolly. He loves her, and has done a lot to show 
it. He's a good 'un, and any happiness he gets he 
more than deserves. (At piano.) 

Miss A. And why should you be so extremely 
anxious to secure this — (another glance at chair) — this 
person's happiness for him ? 



Act III.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 99 

Dolly (nervously). I told you once. I'm a good 
sportsman, and like to see a race fairly run. Dickie 
Hook deserves to win, and I wanted to help him — 
that's all the reason. 

Miss A. Shall I tell you the real one ? 

Dolly. Can if you like. (Sits l. at piano.) 

Miss A. You love him. (Moving to Dolly.) 

Dolly (laughing nervously). Guess again ; 'tain't 
my line ! 

Miss A. You love him ! Bah ! you can't deceive 
me ! I've seen it from the start ! I tell you, you 
love him. 

Dolly (turns and faces Miss Agatha ; after a 
pause). Yes, • 3 T ou're right. I love Dickie Hook, 
there ! I know I'm a fool. 

Miss A. (laughing grimly, moving towards door 
r.i.e.). Yes, I'm afraid you're another of 'em. 
(Stopping at chair, tapping Hook on shoulder with 
lorgnettes) Why, here's this person. (Severely.) 
Have you been eavesdropping ? 

Hook. Oh, no ; sound asleep. 

Miss A. Oh, indeed, then you'll excuse me again. 

Hook (looking towards Dolly) . Certainly ; I 
don't need any entertaining, thanks. 

(Exit Miss Agatha r.i.e.) 

(Hook and Dolly look at each other ; pause) 

Dolly (nervously, in a rush). Of course, you 
quite understand, Dickie, I didn't mean a word of 
what you overheard just now ; it was only — only a 
kind of a joke. 

Hook. Oh, of course not ; only a sort of a kind 
of a joke. 

Dolly (with a sigh of relief). Then that's all right. 
What's the news ? (Goes to him.) Past the post 
yet? 

Hook. Glorious news, Dolly. 

Dolly. What, she has ? 



100 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO I" [Act III. 

Hook. Yes, she has taken Kit back. (Goes up L. 
of table ; leads her to window and points off.) 

Dolly (crosses R.c., delighted). But what are you 
going to do ? 

Hook. That question again. (To Dolly.) Well, 
I thought of asking you to marry me. 

Dolly. Look here, Dickie, a joke's a joke, but 

(Comes down c.) 

Hook. Yes, a joke's a joke ; but this is dead 
earnest. 

Dolly. But, Dickie, you loved Madge. 

Hook. I did love her, I won't lie to you, Dolly ; 
but I reckon I've come to my senses. 

Dolly. You want to marry me ? • 

Hook. I'll do my best to make you happy. I'm 
awfully rough, you know. 

Dolly. Well, somebody said I was as elegant as 
a fishwife. 

Hook. I'll punch his head. Well, Dolly, is it a 
bargain. 

(Dolly comes to Hook ; he seizes her hands.) 

(Taking her arm.) Let's have a smoke in the garden. 

Curtain. 




One copy del. to Cat. Div. 






DRAWING ROOM, 




iiv Kept in the large size, the back scene is 13 feet long and 9 feet high anu ex- 
ids with the Wings and Borders to 20 feet long and 11 J feet high. In the centre 
Is a French window, leading down to the ground, On the left wing is a fireplace 
with mirror above, and on the right wing is an oil painting. The whole scene is 
tastefully ornamented and beautifully coloured, forming a most elegant picture. 
The above is a representation of a bos scene consisting of 38 sheets of paper, 
the extra sheets being used for the doors each side. 

& a. d. 
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COTTAGE. 




This is also kept in the large size only. In the centre is a door 1-ading outsioe. 
On the left centre is a rustic fireplace, and the right centre is a window. On the 
Wings are painted shelves, <&c, to complete the scene. The above is a represen- 
tation of this scene with 1 set of Wings only (not a Box Scene), but a Box Scene 
can be made bv purchasing the extra set of Winga, Prices and size same as 
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NUY LL »->* 



FRENCH'S ACTING EDITION 



VOLUME 150 
£236 The Dentist 
2287 Taken for Granted 
8238 Just as Well 
2239 Boginany 
224U Pansy 

2241 A Doctor's Engage- 

ments 

2242 A Duet 

22J3 My Milliner's Bill, Is. 

2244 My Aunt from Cali- 

fornia 

2245 His Life for Hers 

2246 The Meeting 

2247 The Umbrella 

Duologue 

2248 The Late Lamented 

2249 Woman Triumphant 
2260 Angelina's Lover 

VOLUME 161 

2251 Chrysanthemums 

2252 My First Client 

2253 Punctured 

2254 Old Pals 

2265 Honeymoon Tragedy 
2256 Commission 

2267 Hal, the Highwayman 

2258 Dinner for Two 

2259 Ninth Waltz 

2260 Human Sport 

2261 Collaborators 

2262 Mere Man 

2263 Packing Up 

2264 Paying Guest 

2265 'Enery Brown 

VOLUME 152 

2266 The Jilt 

2207 'Op-o'-Me-Thumb 

2268 A Marriage Has Been 

Arranged 

2269 Carrots 

2270 Conversion of Nat 

Sturge 



2271 Clerics 

2272 Aubre- 

2273 Workb 

2274 Two or 

2275 Bridge 

2276 That I 

2277 Well A 

2278 Maker 

2279 Gutter 

2280 Game of Chess 

VOLUME 153 

2281 Mr. Stein mann'a 

Corner 

2282 Ella's Apology 

2283 Colour Sergeant 

2284 Helpless Couple 

2285 First Aid to the 

Wounded 

2286 Correct Thing 

2287 Their New Paying 

Guest 

2288 Domestic Entangle- 

ment 

2289 Salt of Life 

2290 Time is Money 

2291 Wally and the Widow 

2292 Deceitful Miss Smiths 

2293 Holly Tree Inn 

2294 Up-to-date 

2295 Bit of Old Chelsea 



CONGRESS 




r h 



VOLUME 154 
of 



the 



2296 Wrong Side 

Road 

2297 The Open Door 

2298 Prima Donna (Pem- 

berton) 

2299 Lights Out (Pemberton) 

2300 Mirror of Time 

2301 Three Blind Mice 

(Muskerry) 

2302 Privy Council 

2303 Snowed up with a 

Duchess 



Martha 
se's De- 

717 2 § Aunt 

ucn j-riun. & isarling 

VOLUME 155 

2311 That Horrid Majc 

2312 Bard well v. Pickw, 

2313 House of Nightingale 

2314 Turtle Dovee [dei 

2315 Superior Miss Pellen- 

2316 His Good Genius 

2317 Martha Plays the Fairy 

2318 Dumb Cake 

2319 Proposing by Proxy 

2320 Phoenix 

2321 Boatswain's Mate 

2322 Final Rehearsal 

2323 Two Aunts at a Time 

2324 Nelson Touch 

2325 Convict on the Hearth 

VOLUME 156 

2326 Grey Parrot 

2327 Ghost of Jerry Bundler 

2328 Bishop's Candlesticks 

2329 Peacemaker 

2330 Changeling 

2331 Wire Entanglement 

2332 Pride of Regiment 
2335 "1588" 

2334 Man on the Kerb 

2335 O'Dowd 

2336 Impertinence of the 

Creature 
2 Z 37 Dramatist at Home 

2333 Martha the Soothsayei 
2339 Old Martha Is. 
2d40 All Through Martha Is, 



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